


Snippets of Survival

by OutcastTrip1995



Series: Old Republic Histories [8]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Bounty hunting shenanigans, Cathar being Cathar, Child slavery, Dark, Domestic Fluff, Done Jedi are so Done, Emotional Hurt, F/F, F/M, FMA:Brotherhood crossover, Feline shenanigans, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Slavery, Implied/Referenced Torture, Iokath (Star Wars), M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Multi, Paralysis, Permanent Injury, Serious Injuries, Shouldn't betray Sith, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Eternal Throne Spoilers, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, Star Wars: The Old Republic - War for Iokath Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy views, Violence, poor coping techniques, that is to say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 24,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24003784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutcastTrip1995/pseuds/OutcastTrip1995
Summary: Short stories thrown at me by the characters of my Survivor Legacy ... have fun!
Series: Old Republic Histories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1487549
Comments: 105
Kudos: 37





	1. Hiding in Plain Sight

“What the _hells_ are ya doin’?!” 

Ta’lan stood in the door of the ‘Second Chancer’s’ airlock, gawping at the sight in front of him. Leona barely bothered to look in his direction as she continued to mix a deep orange powder into the large metal tub of water that had appeared in the middle of their living area. 

“Dyeing my fur. Wha’s it look like eh?” 

The Cathar shook her head in annoyance and jabbed a thumb towards the fresher. 

“Yer shit’s in there wit’ Torian. Git goin’ … we gotta sui’ up ‘fore the Republic decides ta come knockin’.” 

Ta’lan shook his head in disbelief but walked through to the fresher anyway, passing a rather miserable looking blond Mako who was sorting through what looked like scraps of fabric and a strangely purple haired Thessa who was fiddling with a mirror. Entering the fresher, all he could do was stop and stare. 

“ _Torian_?!” 

“Your _vod_ ’s idea.” 

Torian sighed as he continued to apply what appeared to be a pink body dye to his skin; his normally blond hair already a bright red. 

“She’s got Gault cookin’ up fake ID’s for everyone too; at least until we’re able to find somewhere that isn’t actively hunting us. Apparently though we stand out too much as a group.” 

Ta’lan’s blond eyebrows shot up and he reached over to pick a small bottle up off the sink. 

“So … what? We gonna be playin’ dress up?” 

Torian nodded miserably before snatching the bottle off Ta’lan and pouring some more of its’ contents onto his fingers. 

“She’s got it all planned out. The Republic’s looking for a bunch of humans running around with a Pureblooded Sith, Chiss, a Devaronian, a Jawa and a savanna morph Cathar. They’re not gonna look twice though at a pair of Zeltron twins, a Miraluka, a Pantoran, a jungle morph Cathar, a Devaronian, a Zabrak and a Jawa.” He looked up at Ta’lan and shook his head wryly. “Mako grabbed the Miraluka identity before Leona had even finished speaking, Dara nabbed the Zabrak ID and Thessa snatched the Pantoran one. That leaves the two of us as the twins.” 

Ta’lan threw a look at Torian that was half bemused and half irritated. He had never been one for sneaking around, disguises and that other spy crap. Not when he had two perfectly functioning blasters and a jetpack that hadn’t failed him yet. Torian gave him a long suffering look and shook his head before Ta’lan could open his mouth. 

“Just humor her vod. She and Dara already had a screaming match over this … I don’t think she’s in the mood.” 

Ta’lan nodded tiredly. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight with his sister either. And … as reluctant as he was to admit it … hiding in plain sight was a good idea. Especially if it allowed them to move a little more freely while still being hunted because of some _stupid Jetii_ and his fucking _vendetta_. He quickly stripped down and stepped into the shower, eyeing the bottles of hair dye already on the floor. 

“When da hells di’ she ‘ave time ta even ge’ all dis?” 

“I thought it best not to ask.” 

Rolling his eyes at Torian’s no nonsense answer, Ta’lan turned the shower on and grabbed a bottle. This plan had better be worth it.


	2. Trust ... or lack thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She doesn't trust him

“Put those on.” 

Sommin blinked as a set of binders were tossed at him, clattering loudly as they bounced before coming to rest by his foot. Keeping a wary eye on the golden eyed Torgruta glaring at him, he slowly crouched down and picked them up. 

“Why?” 

Copaani rolled her eyes. “Because I don’t trust you not to tell Karr’s _dear_ little Padawan to run.” She sneered, lip curling back to reveal just the hint of well maintained fangs. “And I _don’t_ trust you to not try and run either.” 

Well she had a point there. Given the chance he _would_ run … but then again that was why Baras had kept them together wasn’t it? His golden Apprentice and the unwilling weapon. Sommin eyed the binders in his hands before looking back at Copaani. 

“And if I refuse?” 

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and the Force suddenly felt dark and heavy. Like a growing storm. 

“You won’t.”


	3. So tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was so _tired_

He was tired. So so _tired_. So tired even his bones felt tired. Could bones feel tired? His did. Dragging his feet towards the door to his little apartment, Sommin could only really think of the ration bar and caf with his name on it and his not-quite-beyond-repair-yet bed. What a night. There’d been a small offshoot of Black Sun slavers that had tried to set up shop directly opposite that nice little family run grocers where he got his favorite caf. It hadn’t taken long for Sommin to figure out why, not when he knew the Twi’lek proprietor had three young kids, all girls. They were such sweet kids, always happy to see him when he came to stock up on caf, always asking for him to ‘help them fly’. Their delight was so pure in the Force when he held them a few inches off the ground and guided them around the store while he shopped, he could never say no to them. So like _hells_ was he going to let those slavers even **_think_** they could put down roots near those kids. He just … hadn’t expected them to be so well armed. He looked down at his side and hissed quietly. 

“ _Damn_ …” 

The kolto patch hadn’t held and there was a dark stain slowly growing on his shirt. Tugging his jacket closed so as to avoid attention, Sommin was almost at his door when a quiet noise of distress caught his ear. Looking over his shoulder the Mirialan spotted his neighbor, an elderly Weequay, struggling with her own packages as she tried to open her door. A small smile tugged at his mouth and he crossed the hall. His own issues could wait. 

“Hey Missus ‘Noka. Need a hand?” 

Missus ‘Noka squinted up at him from behind her deceptively delicate spectacles (seriously … he’d seen those things get dropped and not suffer any damage at all) and smiled happily. 

“Oh Sommin, please if it’s no trouble?” 

Sommin just smiled and carefully took the packages from the old Weequay, easily balancing them all with a little help from the Force. Was it cheating? Maybe. But he was helping his neighbor so a little gratuitous Force use could be excused. He waited until she had opened the door and shuffled into her apartment before following her in and setting the packages down on her table. 

“No trouble at all ma’am. Just glad I can help.” 

That got him a kind pat on his arm. 

“You’re a good lad.” 

Missus Noka squinted at Sommin again and a concerned look pulled at her old weathered features as she took his flesh hand. Never his cybernetic hand. He still couldn’t stop flinching when people touched it. 

“Are you alright Sommin? You look _exhausted_ dear.” 

He _was_ exhausted. And he **_hurt_**. But he didn’t want to worry his neighbors. Didn’t want his problems to become theirs as well. He protected this small area of Nar Shaddaa … and that included protecting it from himself as well. He pasted a bright smile on his face, wincing inwardly as it pulled on his bruising cheek, and just squeezed her hand back. 

“Aw don’t worry ‘bout me Missus ‘Noka. I’ll be alright.” 

He quickly made his excuses and padded out of the apartment, walking back across the hall and entering his own. He didn’t let the act drop until his door was locked safely behind him, and then his shoulders slumped and he groaned tiredly. Sod the caf and ration bar … he was dealing with this damn knife wound in his side then he was sleeping. Hopefully in his bed this time and not on the couch. Walking through to the living area, bare but for his threadbare old couch and a little table he’d bought to at least make the place look lived in, Sommin snagged his first aid kit off the counter and flopped down on the couch. Slowly and with a great deal of quiet swearing and wincing, Sommin managed to get both his jacket and his shirt off. His jacket went next to him on the couch, his wrecked shirt on the floor to be disposed of. Ignoring his many screaming bruises and sore muscles, Sommin carefully dabbed more kolto onto the weeping cut in his side, tilting his head back and hissing in pain as the medical gel touched bare flesh and exposed nerves. Slapping a fresh patch over the top of the new slathering of kolto, Sommin gritted his teeth and waited for the pain to slow to a dull ebb before slowly heaving himself off the couch and shuffling through to his bedroom. Not even bothering to finish undressing, he flopped awkwardly onto the old mattress, dead to the moon before his head even hit the pillow. Tomorrow would come soon … and with it more people needing his help. He needed all the rest he could get.


	4. Unwanted Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was supposed to be dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @bunny-loverxiv ... hope this answers that ask of yours

“ ** _You_**.” 

The murderous hiss echoed around the records room as Copaani pointed one of her lightsabers at Sommin, Jaesa tense and snarling at her side. Sommin glared back at the two Sith from where he was leaning against the wall, tired blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. 

“Yeah. **_Me_**.” 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Copaani’s lip curled in disgust and she shook her head angrily. “Lot of that going around.” 

Sommin didn’t move until he could see both of the Torgruta’s lightsabers back on her belt, eventually moving away from the wall to stand at Somminick’s side. He could see Copaani’s golden-orange eyes expertly assessing the situation, her mind whirring away as she looked between the two Mirialan’s. Abruptly her eyes narrowed and she shot a venomous glare at Sommin. 

“ ** _You_**. You told him to destroy the databanks didn’t you.” 

It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be. They all knew the answer. Sommin folded his arms and shrugged, doing his best to retain some semblance of calm as the two enraged Sith presences crashed against his mental shields. 

“So what if I did? I **_know_** you Copaani Mirsh.” 

He looked at her, blue eyes suddenly burning. She took a wary step back in surprise before she could stop herself and he smirked grimly. 

“For two years you were my … jailer. And I watched. I listened. And I _learned_. So I _knew_ that you’d only have needed just the slightest hint that you had fulfilled your side of the deal to satisfy your honor and we’d be dead on the floor. So yeah,” He jerked his head roughly towards the databanks. “Yeah I suggested that the databanks got destroyed. Because now you **_can’t_** kill us. You _need_ us to get to Ekkage.” 

And he knew that it _burned_ her. Oh she _hated_ that he was right. Absolutely hated it. A snarl twisted her face and she clenched her fists, Jaesa immediately tensing up for a fight. Then as fast as her rage flared, it calmed … the roaring inferno quieting to simmering embers. Copaani glowered furiously at Sommin and Somminick, fists clenching and unclenching. 

“ ** _Fine_**.” 

She could always kill them after she’d torn Ekkage apart.


	5. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Better to survive than end up dead

“You need to destroy the computer databanks.” 

Somminick Timmns, Jedi Master and Shadow, looked at his companion in surprise. That … coming from the other man it didn’t seem to make sense. 

“You’re suggesting that we break our side of the bargain?” 

“I’m suggesting that you might want to _live_.” 

Sommin Atlas, Fallen (but recovering) Jedi Guardian and one time unwilling Sith, shook his head in frustration and groaned. Tugging at his old Padawan braid, the younger of the two Mirialan’s sighed and looked away from Somminick’s stern gaze. Force the lad could look and act so young sometimes. Somminick constantly had to remind himself that the Sommin he was dealing with now was not the same nineteen year old optimistic Guardian he’d known four years ago. Eventually Sommin shook his head and grumbled. 

“Look. I _know_ Copaani … I was stuck on the same ship as her for the better part of two years. She’ll wait until she’s _sure_ she isn’t breaking that sad excuse of a moral code she has then she’ll run you through without blinking. Wanna live? Make yourself, and by extension me, in-disposable.” 

Somminick frowned at the white haired Mirialan. Sommin had been doing so well in his recovery … but sometimes his younger lineage mate could sound so … so like a Sith. He wasn’t even sure if Sommin realised it. The lad probably just called it pragmatism. And it was. Just not a Jedi’s idea of pragmatism. 

“I don’t like this Sommin. What you’re suggesting … it’s dishonorable.” 

Orange flecked blue eyes rolled up towards the ceiling and Sommin let out a quiet sound that was somehow both pleading and yet full of annoyance. 

“Right now under the current circumstances, I’d go with upsetting my conscience over being gutted by a murderous Torgruta Sith with a vendetta.”


	6. Not Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They really thought he was _nice_? They were wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers for Chapter 2 of KOTET

It was a toss-up as to who was more shocked when the two Commander’s stalked up onto the platform: Saresh or the gathered crowd. Armor still rent and bloody, mud caking their boots, the two Cathar prowled up onto the platform, Theron and Lana quickly moving to back them up. Jade eyes narrowed and full of a quiet fury, Leonar folded his arms and glared up at Saresh. 

“Just tell us why?” 

Saresh drew herself up to her full height as Zeron stalked around her to stand next to his cousin, the very picture of barely restrained anger. 

“Why not? You two don’t _deserve_ to lead this Alliance! I do! I -” 

Zeron struck like a snake, the back of his gloved hand slamming hard into Saresh’s face and knocking the Twi’lek politician to the ground. The sound of the slap echoed around the silent hangar and she lay there, both stunned and shocked as Zeron crouched down in front of her. Blue eyes flashed yellow for a moment before the Cathar sneered angrily and stood. 

“You’re not worth it.” 

“You ... you’re a _Jedi_!” 

Saresh was struggling to her feet and staring at Zeron, anger and shock mixed with disgust. 

“How ... how **_dare_** you strike me! _Don't you know who I am_?!” 

There was a near audible crunching sound as Zeron ground his teeth, fists clenching and unclenching. Ignoring his cousin as the taller Cathar fought his temper, Leonar’s lip curled in a sneer and he glared coolly at Saresh. They didn't give a _shit_ who Saresh was, nor did they really have any respect for the Twi'lek anyway. Makeb, Revan, Ziost ... so much of those shitshows could've been sorted or avoided if she had just got her head out of her well tailored arse and listened to reason instead of playing the part of a power hungry war monger. 

“What to do with you eh?” 

One hand rubbing her swollen cheek, Saresh could only sneer right back at Leonar. 

“Execution I expect. It’s what Vaylin would do. It’s what I would do.” 

“Lucky for you Saresh,” there was a dark edge to Zeron’s tone as he glared at the disgraced Twi’lek; “We’re **_nothing_** like you.” 

He jerked his head roughly towards the door leading away from the Alliance hangar. 

“Get her out of here. Show her how the Alliance treats traitors.” 

*** 

“So ... the Commander actually hit her. I thought he was supposed to be the nice one of those two?” 

Zeer’ana laughed at Koth’s words and set her beer down, eyes so like her brother’s flashing with ill-tempered mirth. 

“Oh _please_. You think my brother survived all the sleen shit those two have been through over the years by being **_nice_**?” 

She shook her head and chugged back another mouthful of beer. Slamming the bottle back down on the cantina bar, she laughed again and shook her head. 

“It was all an **act**. He’s as big an asshole as the rest of us ... the fekker just hid it better. And now he doesn’t have to.”


	7. Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a _box_ in the command center

There was a box in the Command Center. Nothing too fancy or anything mind you. Just a box that looked like it had probably housed something the Alliance Science Division (otherwise known as the Lab of Evil Laughs) had required for their ... _experimentations_. Either way, it still didn’t explain why there was a box in the Command Center. Lana had glared at it but was doing a rather good job of primly ignoring it as she scoured reports with her usual lethal efficiency. Theron had blinked in bemusement before shaking his head and ignoring it. It seemed that everyone and their pet sleen was doing their damned best to ignore the damn box. 

Until the Commander’s showed up. 

“ **BOX**!” 

“ **MINE**!” 

What followed was the shortest hissiest cat fight (pardon the expression) going as the two normally ‘dignified’ Jedi Masters squabbled and fought to be the first to squeeze themselves, armor and all, into the box. In the end somehow the spat ended with a rather smug Commander Leonar Paran taking up most of the box, his incredibly grumpy looking cousin squished into the available space underneath the smaller Cathar. The two Commanders heads poked up out of the box, ears twitching as they ignored the startled looks coming from the Alliance Command staff in favor of observing the revolving data display currently being projected on the main table. Zeron squirmed to get his cousin’s weight off the join where his hip met his cybernetic leg and tried his best to maintain at least _some_ dignity when he was curled up in a box. 

“So. Darvannis wasn’t it?”


	8. Awkward Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who the _hells_ thought that this was a good idea?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have _issues_ with how you're forced to take sides on Iokath

Well ... this was awkward. The envoys from both the Republic and the Empire were doing their best to melt into the furniture as the two Commanders glared at the holographic figures of Supreme Commander Malcom and Empress Acina. There was a definite air of murderous intent in the room ... and for once it wasn’t coming from the brooding Sith lounging on a databank and glaring daggers at the unfortunate Major Quinn. 

“What in all the nine Corellian Hells were you karking **_idiots_** thinking?!” 

Yep. That was one of the Alliance Commanders alright. About as tactful as a crashing Hutt freighter and with a mouth just as foul. The diminutive Cathar had somehow managed to puff himself up to look bigger than his 5′2′‘ frame, jade eyes narrowed slits of pure fury. Next to him his fellow Commander wasn’t looking any more impressed with the situation, although he at least knew better than to openly offend such distinguished personages. At least to their faces. 

“What my esteemed cousin perhaps meant by his rather crass outburst was why in all the Sith and Jedi Hells would you two **glorified nerf herders** try and reignite a war that was doing a **_very good job of spluttering to a complete halt because we all had bigger problems_**?!” 

Or perhaps not. 

Malcom seemed to be at a complete loss for words; and even Acina’s normally venomous tongue had seemed to have tied itself in knots as they gawped at the two positively livid Jedi. Managing to find his tongue before Acina, Malcom straightened up and folded his arms. Perhaps an attempt in intimidation? If so then the two Cathar were not impressed ... they’d seen bigger and more impressive specimens attempt to shove their weight around. Attempt being the key word. 

“The Republic **needs** that superweapon. The war with Zakuul almost broke us, without that weapon what’s to stop the Empire from taking the advantage and walking all over us?” 

Oh Acina wasn’t going to stand for that by a long shot judging by the outraged expression on her face as she drew herself up to her full, not inconsiderable height. 

“How **_dare_** ...” 

“ ** _Enough_**.” 

The single livid word sliced across Acina’s attempt at a response and silenced both humans. Planting his hands on the holotable, Zeron’s hyperspace blue eyes flashed a dangerous yellow for a split second as he snarled. 

“You **both** are in the wrong. Your petty **_pathetic_** vendetta and boneheaded blind prejudices will be the end of the Galaxy. And we will **not** stand here and let you try and force the Alliance into taking sides in a war that we don’t even **_want_**.” 

Leaning forward and really getting into the pair of spluttering holographic faces, ignoring the galaxy wide smirk on Leonar’s face as the shorter Cathar folded his arms, Zeron’s lip curled back in a positively feral snarl. 

“ ** _Kark you both_**. Go find someone else to kick start your war again because we **won’t** be your kriffing **tools**!” 

Standing up again, his ears flicking back in such a matter that anyone fluent in the language of Cathar ear movements would probably have a minor apoplexy, Zeron sliced his hand across his throat. Immediately the poor Alliance communications officer cut the call, leaving the room in a dead silence. Lana, Theron and the two envoys could only stare at the now inactive holotable as Leonar laughed loudly, his ears betraying his anger. 

“ _Well_ ... how long d’you think it’s gonna be before they decide we’re the new Enemy of the Month?”


	9. Star Alchemists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of the Force; they had Alchemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an idea I had for a SWTOR/Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood crossover. Might develop this into a full AU ... might not.

## Shadowed Storm

He let the robe that the Masters insisted he wore slide off his lean frame and onto the ground. Fur ruffling lightly in the breeze, bare arms flexed powerfully and he laughed bitterly. 

"You know why they call me the Shadowed Storm?" 

Pale blue tattoos started to glow, swirling text and jagged marks wrapping around his freckled arms from his shoulders to the tips of his clawed fingers. Sparks danced in his hair and jumped between his fingers; eyes bluer than hyperspace blazing with a sudden intensity. 

"Tell me ... have you ever seen a storm _break_?" 

## Raging Ice

"They say a Sith's rage should burn bright and hot." 

The very temperature dropped at her words, ice crystals forming and dancing in the breeze as the Force itself froze. She looked up at them, golden-orange eyes cold and furious like the sun on a winter's day as the ebony text inked onto her arms and montrals flared a blinding white. A cruel smile tugged at her mouth as she felt their fear. Poor fools. They should've known better than to mess with a Sith. 

"I think you'll find gentlemen that it is the _cold_ you should fear today." 

## Shattered Inferno

They felt heavy. The deceptively delicate metal frameworks that wrapped around his tattooed hands and clamped tight around his wrists. He could still feel his fingers under the metal, could feel the thin fur catching on the edges of the metal. But they would never come off. No ... the Emperor’s twisted alchemy had permanently fused the metal to him. What was a weapon without its’ tools after all. A twisted facsimile of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he clenched his fists tight. He was no longer under the Emperor’s thumb but he could never go back to what he had been before. No. He’d been broken down and reforged into something else. 

“Surrender Jedi.” 

Jade eyes opened lazily and he spared a glance to the side at the Imperials pointing their blasters at them. Poor idiots. They really had no idea. 

“ _Jedi_?” 

A sharp gesture and a snap of his fingers sent flames roaring towards the soldiers. They didn’t even have time to scream before the inferno consumed them. Bowing his head so that his mane hung across his eyes as embers slowly floated down to the ground, he laughed. A broken, shattered sound. 

“I’m _no_ Jedi.”


	10. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes actions have unforeseen consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I have a _problem_ with how during Chapter 8 of KOTFE; when Senya throws the Outlander away from Vaylin and they crash into a wall there are apparently no consequences?! Yeah ... nope. There are consequences alright.  
> Warnings for serious bodily harm

It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute he’d been about to take Vaylin on in front of the Gravestone; the next he was airborne. He hadn’t even seen the powerful Force shove coming ... and considering Senya was like a mountain in the Force: strong and sturdy yet you had to be blind as a bat to miss her ... that was somewhat worrying. Not that he really had time to worry as his unscheduled flight was abruptly cut short by the unfortunately solid support beam. A pained scream escaped him when he felt something crunch in his back ... but then his cousin, also thrown aside by Senya, slammed into him. Something snapped. Lightning agony blazed up his back. Then his world went black. 

“ **Leonar**!” 

Zeron scrambled to his feet and ran over to his cousin, roughly shoving at the smaller Cathar’s shoulder even as he growled at Lana to make the Sith keep her distance. He’d felt Leonar’s pain scream across their bond as well as through the Force and it scared him. He’d **never** felt pain like that before. The freckle faced Cathar continued to shove at his smaller relative’s shoulder until Leonar came to with a low groan. 

“Owwwwwww ...” 

He shook his head blearily and looked up at Zeron, ears flat against his head. 

“Quit shovin’ ... m’up ...” 

He went to push himself to his feet, hands bracing against the cold floor and powerful arms pushing up ... but something wasn’t right. Pain lanced again up his back and his arms gave out, sending him crashing back to the ground with a cry. 

“ **Ah**!” 

Gritting his fangs so tight he thought they’d break, Leonar tried to battle through the pain and get up again. But his legs just wouldn’t cooperate. Panting heavily, he looked over his shoulder at his uncooperative legs. They were just lying there ... a cold feeling came over him and he tentatively tried to move his foot. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. 

“I ...” 

Desperation and denial took over and he frantically tried again. He even tried to kick out ... something ... **anything** ... just any sign that his legs were still responding. Ears clamping tight to his skull as he battled his growing panic, Leonar tried once again to move his legs. Nothing. Finally he grabbed one of his lightsabers off his belt and threw it at his legs. It bounced off his thigh and clattered to the floor ... but he felt nothing. Ice cold fear flooded through him and he looked helplessly up at Zeron and Lana. 

“I can’t feel my legs.”


	11. Weapon's Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No weapons at the party ... oops ... gonna have to get rid of 'em quick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've seen this scene going around tumblr a few times now ... I think it's from Ms. Congeniality or a film of a similar name ... anyhoo I just _had_ to write it for my Sith Warrior Copaani! After all ... who doesn't love a tall buff woman in a tux eh? ;)

“Oh **kark**. This is supposed to be a weapons free event ... they’ll have droids scanning for weapons at the door.” 

Copaani huffed in frustration and stopped by an ornamental bench, setting one elegantly heeled foot on it in annoyance and rolling the leg of her tuxedo pants up. 

“Quinn come here.” 

The Captain coughed awkwardly as he instantly answered his Lord’s order, stopping just out of the statuesque Torgruta’s punching range. 

“My Lord?” 

Copaani rolled her eyes. Honestly ... punch some _di’kut_ that didn’t understand the word no once and you’re branded as a ‘punch first’ kind of person for life. Shaking her head in irritation, she removed the knife she’d had strapped around her calf and tossed it at Quinn. 

“Here.” 

She switched legs and quickly removed the other knife, also handing that one to the bemused Captain, before shoving her hands in her pockets. They’d been specifically tailored for this purpose, allowing her access to the thigh holsters secreted under the expensive Alderaanian silk. Pulling the holdout blasters free of their holsters, she casually handed them over to a now wide eyed Quinn. 

“Hmmm ... ah yes.” 

Removing her tuxedo jacket and setting it carefully on the bench, Copaani casually removed her lightsabers from her belt and tossed them at Quinn. These were shortly followed by another pair of blasters that were removed from the under-arm holsters she had been wearing until those too joined the pile. She wanted to be able to remove her jacket if it got too warm at the party. Copaani tugged at her montrals as she tried to remember if she had any more weapons before snapping her fingers together. 

“Almost forgot.” 

Removing the silver cuff links engraved with her family crests, she rolled back her sleeves to her elbows; revealing yet two more knives: one strapped to the inside of each powerful forearm. Removing those she lazily dropped them on the pile in Quinn’s arms, ignoring the incredulous looks from the rest of her subordinates. Oh please, did they forget so easily who she was? She was the Emperor’s Wrath; a living breathing extension of the Emperor’s grip on the wider Galaxy and a living weapon. Did they really expect her to _just_ use her lightsabers? 

“I think that’s everything ...” 

She could pass off the metal cap on her rear lek as purely decorative despite it’s razor sharp edges so that got a pass ... Copaani quickly ran through a mental checklist as she carefully put her cuff links back on. No ... no that was definitely everything. 

“No planet destroying super weapon my Lord?” 

Copaani laughed as she picked up her jacket and lazily slung it over one shoulder, turning to smirk evilly at Quinn as he stood there weighed down with her weaponry. 

“Don’t be **ridiculous** Captain. That’s in my **other** suit.”


	12. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All actions have their repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna warn ya before ya read is all.   
> Okay Leonar has an ... unhealthy view of what happened to him. He's grown up his whole life fighting so to all of a sudden no longer be able to ... yeah.   
> This in _no_ way reflects on how I see life altering injuries/disabilities ... t'would make me a bloody hypocrite all things considered; but _please_ , consider yourselves warned.

He felt so ... so _useless_. Lying here in a medical bed that two of Koth’s crew had managed to drag/carry him to, just waiting and hoping that Zeron could get the docking clamps unlocked in time. Anger welled up inside Leonar and he thumped his clenched fist against the bed. _Senya_. This was all her fault. Now his cousin was out there alone ... facing Force knew what. Leonar was sharply dragged from his morose thoughts when he felt pain exploding across his bond with Zeron. Crying out he twisted and fell awkwardly from the bed, landing heavily on his already bruised arms. Panting and struggling up onto his elbow, Leonar desperately grabbed at his abdomen where he could feel some echoes of his cousin’s pain. _What was happening_?! 

*** 

Run through by Arcann before losing a leg to the crazed Emperor’s blade as well. Because he hadn’t been there and Zeron had been forced to fight alone. Leonar watched in grim silence as Lana fussed over his cousin’s prone form. 

“How did it happen?” 

Lana flinched and looked over at him, her normally bright golden eyes dimmed and full of worry. 

“I wasn’t there. But Koth mentioned something about Zeron freezing for a moment and then Arcann using the Force to pull him onto his lightsaber. He didn’t really see what happened to Zeron’s leg; he was trying to find a way to drive Arcann off.” 

Leonar growled and looked away sharply. A quiet murmur in the back of his mind told him exactly why his cousin had frozen. 

“Valkorion ... when we get rid of you I swear I’m gonna find some way to **throttle** you!” 

Lost as he was in his angry mutterings and promises of inflicting some serious damage on his unwelcome head-guest; Leonar totally missed an equally unwelcome presence arriving. 

“How are they?” 

Jade eyes narrowed with pure undiluted rage, flashing a sickly yellow for a moment as Leonar realised just who had rather foolishly enter the medbay. _Oh_ she had some _nerve_. He slowly lifted his head and looked coldly at Senya, feeling some grim satisfaction at how she flinched and the sudden sense of shame that filled the Force. _Good_. She should feel ashamed. 

“Come to admire your handiwork?” 

Senya reeled back as though slapped and Lana looked sharply at Leonar. But the Cathar was in no mood to be pulling his punches. Not after what Senya had done. 

“You **satisfied** now eh? This enough **_justice_** for killing that **monster** who’s bed you shared?! Zeron could’ve **died** on that station! Because of **you**! It’s **your** fault he got hurt!” 

Senya didn’t offer any defense, which Leonar found annoying. It robbed him of a chance to start an argument. But watching her flinch and grow smaller ... that he _didn’t_ feel sorry for. Her thoughtless Force shove had cost him the use of his legs; the battered old medical unit that Koth’s crew had brought with them onto the Gravestone had pronounced that he’d probably never walk again. He'd cretainly never be able to fight again. And that hurt. It hurt a lot. He was a Jedi Sentinel for crying out loud!! Fighting was _all_ he really knew! And in one sharp blow it had all been taken away from him. What was bruising Senya’s feelings for a few moments compared to the life-altering injury he now had to live with? Or the injuries that could yet kill Zeron? 

“Get out.” 

Senya looked at Leonar in surprise, grey eyes widening in shock. 

“I ...” 

“ **Get**. **Out**.” 

Leonar grit his fangs, his fingers tingling as he clenched his fists. Fighting back the urge to accept the power that Valkorion was teasingly giving him some access to, he glared furiously at Senya. 

“ **Now**.” 

He didn’t relax until the Knight had fled the medbay, flopping back onto his bed with an angry huff. Lana gave him a reproachful look and he snarled. 

“What? This is all her fault Lana. Not my problem she can’t handle the truth.” 

He frowned, brow creasing deeply. He was tempted to tell Lana that if she wanted him and Zeron in this little Alliance she was building then Senya had to go ... but that would then mean losing access to a valuable source of information. Not to mention it could mean Lana leaving too. The Sith was a pragmatist and a ruthless one at that. She wouldn’t hesitate to leave if she decided that her time was better spent working with someone else. Sighing angrily he threw his head back onto the pillow and glared up at the ceiling. 

“Wake me up when he does ... or ... or when he doesn’t.” 

*** 

Odessan was ... _different_. Soothing. The Force was perfectly balanced, wrapping around his shoulders like an old friend. Leonar was too busy admiring the view to really listen to Lana, at least until a half-recovered Zeron nudged his shoulder. 

“Huh?” 

He looked up at Lana, fighting back a snicker at the resigned look on her face. 

“As I was saying, you two are the leaders of this little Alliance ... now would be an excellent time to make a speech. Inspire everyone.” 

Leonar raised an eyebrow. Zeron had only been awake for a few days and was currently wobbling around on a prosthetic limb cobbled together from what was left of HK’s own legs; while he was stuck wherever he was set down until he could get someone to quite literally carry him to wherever it was he actually wanted to be. A fine pair they made ... so _inspirational_. Huffing in frustration, Leonar made a ‘come here’ gesture with his fingers towards Lana. 

“Help me up.” 

She blinked and took a careful step forward before stopping. 

“I don’t quite see ...” Her words trailed off as Leonar raised a hand. 

“Look you want us to inspire this pack of idiots crazy enough to actually listen to you?” His eyebrows raised and he gestured at his unresponsive legs with some irritation. “Hardly an inspiration when I can’t even stand up. So you want a speech? Help. Me. The **kark**. Up.”


	13. A Little Calamity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes what's needed is a little calamity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first off; a HUGE thank you to @DarkShadeless for allowing me to put their awesome snarky OC Yon into this snippet  
> Secondly; this is a part of the FMA:B/SWTOR AU that's still bubbling away in the back of my mind  
> Thirdly ... I ain't gonna apologise for Yon's foul mouth. I doubt he ever does.

“Remind me again **why** we’re traipsing around Nar Shaddaa again?” 

Yon’s lip curled slightly as he followed his companion through the lower levels of the Corellian Sector. This was a waste of his rather valuable time ... he had alchemy students to torture - sorry; _teach_. But instead his rather irritating Jedi co-worker had dragged him off on this wild bantha chase. 

“I explained why back on the shuttle.” 

“You explained **kark all** Somminick. As **usual**.” 

Looking at the sign over a door and comparing it to the information on his datapad, Somminick sighed tiredly and shook his head before moving on. The Mirialan’s shoulders, normally held high and proud, were slumped with exhaustion and his face was creased up with worry. 

“Jaesa and I weren’t Nomen Karr’s only students. There was another one he took on between my Knighting and him taking Jaesa as his Padawan.” 

Yon’s dark eyebrows shot up before they creased in a frown. And Somminick was only just _now_ bringing up that there was another Karr padawan out in the Galaxy? _Why_? 

“And you’re only just **now** informing me because?” 

“Because with the war and everything against Zakuul we **need** him. I didn’t really want to do this ... but he was a prodigy when it came to defensive alchemy before ...” Somminick cut himself off sharply and pointed towards an apartment building. “There. That one.” 

Yon wasn’t stupid. He knew that there was definitely _something_ that the other alchemist wasn’t telling him. But fine, he could be patient. Mostly. Sometimes. On occasion ... okay the day he was patient was the day Quinn took that beksar rod out of his ass and declared a desire to learn classical Sith opera. Grumbling to himself he followed Somminick into the apartment building, eyebrow raising as the Mirialan ignored the turbolift in favor of the stairs. 

“Um ... lift?” 

“Stairs are better for you. Especially with the amount of that glorified **syrup** you’ve been drinking lately.” 

Oh he did _not_ go there! Not the tea! Huffing angrily, Yon stomped up the stairs after Somminick with an ill grace; determined to be as fresh faced at their destination floor as he was on the ground floor. And he was. A pleased feline grin curled at his mouth as he regarded Somminick, but the Jedi had the _gall_ to ignore him. _Rude_. Yon’s eyes scanned the narrow hallway for any potential dangers, any alchemical traps or possible ambush points as he followed Somminick down the hall. So focused was he in looking for danger, he failed to realise that the broad shouldered Mirialan had stopped until he was face planting into the Jedi’s back. 

“ **Kriff**!” 

Somminick gave him a bland look and a raised eyebrow before raising a hand to carefully knock on the door. The minutes felt like they were taking an eternity to tick by before eventually the door opened and a tired face poked out. Yon raised an eyebrow as he beheld this apparent prodigy. Blue eyes so shadowed with exhaustion the alchemist looked like he’d had a bad experience with some makeup. Green freckled skin marred with bruises, his lower lip split and swollen ... suggesting the kid had come off worse in a fight. Hair that had possibly once been black but was now a stressed grey turning white was little more than a tangled birds nest save for the strands held together in a slim braid by a pair of clasps. The overall image made Yon think of Sewlor when he’d first found the lad. This alchemist had the same air of exhausted youth about them. 

Somminick ignored, or was perhaps ignorant of, Yon’s musings and smiled gently at the other Mirialan. 

“Hello Sommin. Can we come in?” 

Sommin’s eyes widened and Yon could see alarm flash across those tired features before the door slammed shut. There was a familiar rush of static tinging the air, a clear sign of alchemy being performed, before the door seemed to warp and melt into the doorframe, becoming a single seamless unit. Somminick shook his head sadly and gently set a hand on the once-door. 

“I thought he was getting better.” 

Yon snorted despite himself and folded his arms. Whatever Somminck had thought, it was quite clear the alchemist was mistaken. 

“How serious were you about us needing him?” 

Somminick gave him a warning look, one hand twitching to the currently collapsed staff at his hip. Yon had seen the damage that Somminck could inflict with that staff and had no desire to see it directed towards him, quickly raising his hands. 

“Hey it was just a **karking** question!” 

“I **know** you Yon. The **last** thing we need right now though is The Calamity tearing through into that apartment. That will only just guarantee that we can’t persuade him to come with us.” 

Yon shook his head and shoved his sleeves back, baring his extensively tattooed forearms before setting his hands on the once-door. 

“Sometimes a little calamity is what’s needed Somminick. **Especially** if you're right about us needing him.”


	14. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Baras is dead. What happens now ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this angst-fest has been brought to you courtesy of a conversation between myself and the ever-amazing @DarkShadeless who has once again kindly allowed me to write their Dark Lord of the Sass Yon (this time the Emperor's Wrath edition!)
> 
> Warnings: implied/referenced torture

“So what are you going to do now Master? Baras is gone ...” 

“And so everything that was that idiot's is now mine. It’s the way things are around here.” 

Turning the corner with a dramatic swirl of his robes, Yon strode purposefully towards what had once been the late and not lamented Darth Baras’ office and chambers, his two apprentices scrambling along in his wake. In all honesty he had no intention of keeping anything that had belonged to that traitorous blowhard, but Baras had been a cunning bastard. Chances where there were things in his office that could cause ... problems. Which meant taking an inventory and then burning the whole damn lot. And probably scattering the ashes where not even the K’lor slugs would go. 

“Jaesa I want you to help me do a full inventory on what we find. Sewlor, I’m going to need you to make sure that we are not ... interrupted by any of Baras’ remaining idiots.” 

The two apprentices nodded as they arrived at the admittedly nondescript door leading to Baras’, now Yon’s, office and the chambers beyond. But as Yon set his hand on the door handle, Jaesa paled and took a nervous step back. 

“Master ...” 

She could sense something behind that door. And it terrified her. Yon frowned and gave the older of his two apprentices a concerned look. Jaesa was normally so unshakeable. To see her like this ... 

“Wait out here then. I’ll go first.” 

He opened the door, ignoring the rush of Dark Side energies flooding out and over him even as behind him Sewlor’s knees buckled and he sagged against the wall. Inhaling deeply, the Wrath strode into the office, ready to deal with whatever it was unnerving his apprentices so. 

*** 

How long had it been? It was so hard to tell. With no access to anything outside this room time had become irrelevant. All he really knew was that his tormentor hadn’t yet shown up. Not that that was really anything new. At first he could’ve set a chrono to Baras’ ‘visits’. The so-called ‘lessons’. The torture. But lately Baras had stopped acting with any form of regularity. What he’d guessed were daily visits had become fewer. If he had any idea of how much time was passing then he’d guess that perhaps the Sith stopped by maybe once a week or so. And he’d seemed more distracted too. Bored even. And that ... that actually scared him more than Baras’ original plan for him. If Baras grew bored then chances are that the Sith would simply dispose of him. A raspy sigh escaped him and he tugged the scraps of his shirt closer to try and get warm. Whether Baras came today, tomorrow or sometime in the next century it didn’t matter. He wasn’t getting out of here. They’d abandoned him. Master Karr, the Order ... they’d left him here to rot. There was no escape. Not for him. 

*** 

Yon frowned as he looked around Baras’ office. Had it really been so long since he’d stood in here as Baras’ apprentice, Vemrin’s blood still fresh on his hands? The office hadn’t really changed much. A few new artifacts on the shelves, some datapads haphazardly scattered on the desk ... but nothing he could see that would upset Jaesa so badly. Walking further into the office he skirted around the desk and proceeded deeper into his former Master’s chambers. These offices and archives were really just Baras’ work spaces, the Sith hadn’t ever lived here properly unlike some. Which in some ways was a relief. No chance of finding things that’d be particularly scarring. Yon passed one door and flinched sharply, pausing and turning to look at the deceptively innocent durasteel structure. It positively reeked of the Dark Side; and was locked with some sort of fancy biometric lock rather than something more mundane. Was this ... was this what was upsetting his apprentices? Whatever Baras kept locked away tighter than anything else in his chambers. Yon examined the lock for a moment before snorting and drawing his lightsaber. Why bother slicing the lock when he could just slice the door open? But once the door was open ... he really wished he’d shown some patience for once in his Force damned life and a vile oath in Kittât that would’ve shocked his grandmother escaped him before he could stop it. 

“ ** _Sithspit_**! **Jaesa**!!” 

*** 

The first sign that things might actually be different today was when instead of opening as it normally did, the door fell to the ground in pieces. But he just could not bring himself to care. He had no energy left to care even if he’d wanted to. He didn’t even look up from the floor. A livid hiss of a language he didn’t understand and hurried footsteps didn’t really give him much cause to react either. But when a hand touched his bony shoulder with a disturbing amount of tenderness, he flinched away. He couldn’t help it. After all this time ... he didn’t want to give himself any false hope that someone had finally come to rescue him from this living nightmare. To hope was dangerous. To hope gave his tormentors more ammunition. A gloved hand carefully slipped under his chin and lifted his head up, his overgrown fringe falling into his eyes. Even so, he could see well enough. A new Sith. He’d never seen this one in his cell before. And behind them another figure, but he couldn’t see them so well. The light coming into his cell from where the door had once been hurt his eyes and he looked down at the floor again with a tired sigh. Baras or this new Sith what did it matter? A jailer was a jailer.


	15. The Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe some things were better left buried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again a HUGE thank you to @DarkShadeless for letting me write Yon; he's an awesome character and they are a fantastic writer! Go check them out!
> 
> So much angst in this one ... prepare for emotional FEELS

No one really knew much about the Wrath's third apprentice. Silent, always clad in dark armor, features hidden by a hood ... but everyone knew to avoid them. Like a mouse hiding in its' hole to avoid a predator. Both sides of the coalition knew to steer clear of the apprentice without even having to discuss it. Even the Grand Master and Darth Marr seemed somewhat unnerved by the silent apprentice when he stood in his Master’s shadow and watched the proceedings. They couldn’t help but feel a gathering of storm clouds in the Force. Something was going to have to give. Soon. 

No one knew what the agent was thinking. Or maybe they weren’t. Maybe that was why, pale faced and trembling, the poor fool had been _stupid_ enough to fire a shot at the Emperor’s Wrath of all people right in the middle of a truce. The shot that had it hit would’ve stood a very good chance of killing the near legendary Sith. Only ... only it didn’t hit. Instead a bracer glowing red with the Dark Side appeared and the blaster shot ricocheted off, flying wildly up into the air. The whole camp had frozen as the Wrath’s black armored apprentice raised his hooded head and a low snarl rumbled around the clearing. The Force seemed to turn cold and the shaking agent took a single step back. That was their mistake. 

The attack was swift, efficient and brutal. The apprentice had moved without any warning, his strikes clinical and without mercy as he attacked the agent that had _dared_ point a blaster in his Master’s direction. And yet no one dared to interrupt the very one sided fight. Oh the agent fought back yes ... but it was with the rabid desperation of a man who had seen death and knew it was coming for him. A wild strike caught the apprentice in the face and knocked his hood back, revealing snowy white hair before the Force flared and dust concealed both Sith and agent. When the dust settled, the agent was pinned in a painful lock on the ground, their face mercilessly being crushed into the forest floor as the apprentice looked up at his master, head tilted in a silent question. ‘Should I kill him?’ the look said. ‘Should I kill him or do you wish for that right’? 

Like the other Jedi, Master Timmns had watched the fight with a mixture of pity and apprehension. The agent had been foolish yes, to throw every chance at a longer lasting truce away just for a shot at the single most dangerous person in the Empire after the Emperor himself. But it would be just as foolish to intervene on the man’s behalf. He had to admit he was curious when the apprentice’s hood was knocked back. No one had yet seen what the mysterious third apprentice looked like. Even in the Mess Tent he had kept his hood up. Force the only reason they knew the apprentice was at least male identifying was because on occasion he would actually speak; his voice low and raspy as if he didn’t use it much. Somminick shamelessly took advantage of his height to look over some of his fellow Jedi at the apprentice as the dust settled. White hair ... unusual but not unheard of. And green skin ... a fellow Mirialan. How interesting. He watched as the Wrath crouched down to look at the pitiful broken mess that was the agent. 

“Who gave the order?” 

The question was almost conversational in tone ... the Wrath could’ve been asking about the weather. Still, it took the apprentice digging his knee even harsher into the agent’s back for the man to cry out and babble his answer. 

“ ** _Chancellor Saresh_**! It was the Chancellor! The Jedi had nothing to do with it I **swear** it was the Chancellor!” 

The Wrath’s face was impassive as he stood, lazily brushing dust from his robes. 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” 

The crack of a snapped neck echoed out like the shot from a slugthrower and Somminick barely managed not to flinch. He was a Jedi Shadow; he was no stranger to death. But the almost bored air with with the apprentice had killed the agent ... it was disturbing to say the least. Acting like he hadn’t just killed a man the apprentice stood and turned, apparently unaware or perhaps just not caring that the entire camp could see his face. Somminick finally got a good look at the apprentice ... and he felt his world just _fall_ out from underneath him. 

_“Somminick! Lookit, I lost my first tooth!”_

_“Somminick, d’you think you can help me? I can’t decide what tattoo I want.”_

_“Master Saar said this training ‘saber was once yours Somminick. That true? D’you think I’ll be as good a fighter as you one day?”_

_“Hey Somminick! Master Karr said he wanted me as his next student! We’re gonna be lineage mates!”_

No ... no it couldn’t be ... _Nomen Karr had always maintained that he had died on Balmorra_! Killed by Imperial soldiers. A life cut short before it’s time. A shocked wheeze escaped him before he could stop it and Somminck stumbled back, prompting cries of alarm from the nearest Jedi. He ... he couldn’t breathe ... the noises around him were faint like he was underwater. Had ... all this time ... what had _happened_?! The apprentice looked in his direction and Somminick felt all the blood drain from his face. He remembered those eyes once being blue, so bright and full of hope and life. Now though ... now they were old before their time. Cold and full of an all consuming hatred ... and orange-gold with the Dark Side. The eyes of a Sith and not the Jedi he had once known. 

“S- ... Sommin?”


	16. Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best way to cheer up a grumpy Sith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saphira is the adorable Chiss Sith Sorcerer OC belonging to my good friend @naaklasolus

Spying her favorite Torgruta curled up in a menacing pile of cranky armor and blankets on the couch in their Alliance quarters; Saphira chewed on her lip. She wanted to cheer Copaani up … the Wrath had been utterly miserable ever since she’d been told she was too conspicuous and thus wasn’t allowed to go ruin Vaylin’s big party with the others. Which led to Saphira having a sulky Wrath on her couch glaring holes in a datapad linked into the feed from one of the Mandalorian’s helmet cams. Tapping her lips for a moment in thought, Saphira hummed before an idea came to her and she danced off into the kitchen. She knew just what she needed to do! 

*** 

“I brought you a snack babe.” 

Copaani grunted roughly before the smell of freshly baked Hoth chocolate cookies caught her attention. Dragging her eyes away from the datapad currently showing the Royal Kitchens of the Palace of the Eternal Dragon; Copaani couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her face at the sight of the plate piled high with delectable dark brown cookies. Setting the datapad down on the couch she took one and bit into it; an almost bedroom-esque moan escaping her as her eyes half-closed with pleasure. By all the Dark Lords they were still warm … fresh and gooey and absolutely perfect. Happily stuffing the rest of the cookie in her mouth; Copaani looked up at the grinning Chiss still holding out the plate. 

“Delicious.” 

That earned her a gentle tap on her nose, making her go cross eyed for a moment. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full babe.” 

Saphira set the plate of cookies down well within reach before picking up Copaani’s datapad and sitting down on the couch; snuggling back against the Torgruta. 

“Now … shall we watch this together? Beska’s off with the other kids and if there’s gonna be mayhem then I wanna watch too.” 

Copaani chuckled huskily and reached for another cookie. Her favorite snack, her favorite Chiss and a datapad with a live broadcast of the insanity on Zakuul … maybe staying behind was a good thing after all.


	17. "Is It So Wrong?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For me to want to save you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thessa is the OC of my very awesome friend @naaklasolus
> 
> Warnings: implied slavery

“Ya nee’ ta leave. Before ya ge’ ‘urt.” 

Thessa folded her arms angrily and pouted up at the taller girl; ignoring the teen’s threatening tone. She only wanted to help the two gladiators … was that so wrong? Her mama had always said that the rings were no place for children; it’s why buir told her not to tell. 

“No. I wanna help.” 

The Cathar girl whirled back around with a snarl; slamming her fist on the wall by her cell’s door in anger and frustration. Thessa quickly took a few steps back in alarm; fear sparkling in her ruby eyes as she was pinned in place by cold jade eyes. 

“ ** _We ain’ yer chari’y case freegirl_**! Now ge’ los’ if ya know wha’s good fer ya!” 

Tears sprung unbidden to Thessa’s eyes as she took another step back away from the cell housing the teenage gladiators. The rational part of her mind understood their anger at her … they were trapped behind bars; property of the sleemo upstairs; ragged, scarred and lean. So different from her. But then her emotions took over again and she stamped her foot in frustration. She wasn’t being kind out of some misplaced sense of charity; she truly wanted to help them. Why couldn’t they see that? 

“Is it so wrong for me to wanna save you?!” 

Were they so jaded that everything was a trap in their eyes? It certainly seemed the case as the Cathar girl laughed at Thessa. It was not a nice laugh; harsh, bark-like and full of cynical bitterness. 

“Yer wastin’ yer time brat. There ain’ nobody gonna save us.”


	18. A Kiss a for Every Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To show how much I love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saphira is the adorable OC of @naaklasolus

There was a definitely air of menace in the Alliance kitchens; despite the peals of happy laughter coming from the gaggle of children within as they surrounded Darth Nox and begged her for cookies. The Chiss Sith had a huge grin on her face as she doled out the sugary treats; even sparing one the sticky fingers only to hand it straight to the nervous looking former Emperor with a smile. Arcann carefully took the cookie; looking down at it in surprise before looking back up at the pink haired distributor. 

“Um …” 

He wanted to thank her for her kindness; he’d really like to see that smile directed at him again. But there was a problem. A problem that stood 6’5’’ at the base of her montrals; had eyes that’d put a sun generator to shame and was lurking in the darkest corner of the kitchens glaring at him like she’d like nothing more than to make his insides his outsides. The Lord Wrath; former Wrath of the Empire and the rather possessive spouse of Darth Nox: Copaani Mirsh … and she looked like she wanted to kill him for even being in her wife’s vicinity. A low growl cut through the laughter and the kids all looked up; eyes wide in alarm before they scattered like panicking Orobirds as the Wrath prowled out of her corner and wrapped her arms around Nox. 

“ **Must** you wind me up like this my little Sapphire?” 

Despite the fangs gently grazing along her ear, Nox only giggled and reached back over her shoulder to stuff a cookie into the Wrath’s mouth; getting a muffled squawk of outrage. Swallowing awkwardly around the cookie; the Wrath growled and scooped Nox up into her arms; carrying the now loudly protesting Chiss out of the kitchen. 

“Copaani put me down this **instant**! I still have cookies that are baking!” 

“The kitchen staff can handle a few cookies. I was not spending a moment longer in there with your current pet project watching you like a lost tuk’ata. It’s pathetic and it **annoys** me.” 

The Wrath’s low growl literally vibrated up out of her throat; mixing promises with a playful menace as she swept through the corridors towards her private chambers. Elbowing the door open with little fanfare and using her foot to slam it shut behind her the Wrath barely stopped until she’d reached the double bed she shared with her spouse and dropped the slim Chiss down onto the blankets. She landed with a squeak and a huff; pouting up at the statuesque Torgruta. 

“Meanie. And Arcann needs a friend is all.” 

“My _mesh’la_ , the only reason I didn’t kill him on Voss is because I knew you’d be upset. What I will **not** stand for though is him staring at you like you’re the last glass of water on Tatooine!” 

There was a great deal of barely restrained frustration in the Wrath’s tone as she quickly divested herself of her heavy cloak, armored shirt and bracers before removing her gloves as well and carelessly tossing them to the ground. A slow smirk curled at the corners of her mouth when she caught Nox staring at her toned arms and she leaned forward; planting both hands on either side of the Chiss and capturing her lips in a startlingly tender kiss. A kiss that was only broken when the need for air started to become a pressing one. The Chiss and the Torgruta broke apart; panting heavily as sparkling ruby eyes met blazing orange ones. The Wrath smirked; leaning forward to run her tongue along Nox’s jawline; laughing against the cerulean skin when her actions made the smaller Sith mewl with need. 

“I am going to remind everyone on this damn base just **who** you are married to my little Sapphire.” 

Abruptly she broke contact and stood; smirking at her wife’s impatient whining as she planted her hands on her hips and looked down at the Chiss. The idea struck her like a blast of Force lightning to the montrals and the Wrath laughed; gently pushing Nox back onto the bed and propping herself over the other woman with both hands. 

“And I know just how to start.” 

She kissed Nox’s slim neck before sucking hard; satisfaction curling around her at the noises coming from her spouse. Yes … this was just the way to start. A kiss and a mark for every year of their lives.


	19. Little Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why we don't mess with unknown artifacts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a distressing lack of de-aging AU's in this fandom ... so I thought I'd give it a go!

“Remind me again why we’re heading down to the Lab of Evil Laughs?” 

“Because after that last incident we agreed that any of their ‘finds’ had to get Command approval before they could start poking.” 

Zeron rolled his eyes as he and Leonar made their way to the science wing of the Alliance base. That safety measure had been brought in for a damn good reason. Just because the shorter Cathar was in a bitchy mood it didn’t mean they could skip out on something they had insisted on in the first place. Zeron was the first through the door into the labs, holding it open for Leonar to limp through with Theron and Lana following close behind. Leonar clapped his hand against his hip, the sharp noise gaining the attention of the scientists and Nox’s pet archaeologist from where they were clustered around something. Lieutenant Drellik’s eyes lit up happily. 

“Ah Commanders! Excellent timing; we have just finished cleaning up the artifact. A truly magnificent piece.” 

Leonar raised an eyebrow as he followed Zeron over to the group. 

“What happened to not touching until we’ve seen it and ensured you’re not going to unleash something insane on the base ... **again**?” 

Drellik at least had the good grace to flush and look away while Doctor Ogurobb merely shrugged. 

“Surely just removing the dirt from the artifact doesn’t count Commander. A harmless act really.” 

Zeron snorted and shook his head. They were still finding remnants from the _last_ lab ‘incident’. The science division definitely had a skewed view of what ‘harmless’ was. 

“Let’s just see this thing then.” 

The ‘thing’ ... tablet ... artifact ... whatever anyone wanted to call it ... seemed harmless enough. It was maybe about the same size and thickness as a datapad, with strange glyphs and symbols carved in painstakingly exquisite detail into its’ worn surface. It was certainly an intriguing artifact, one that the scientists and archeologists could have fun with for months. Zeron shrugged and looked at Leonar who was frowning at the tablet. 

“Seems harmless enough.” 

Leonar’s frown deepened as he looked at the tablet one last time before sighing and shrugging. 

“Yeah ... doesn’t look like it’s gonna do anything.” 

It happened in a heartbeat. As if waiting for their guard to drop, the glyphs on the tablet started to glow a deep ominous purple. Wisps of smoke twisted and curled up from the tablet, the ominous tendrils reaching out to wrap around the two startled Commanders before anyone could react. There were startled yelps and strange clattering sounds coming from within the dense cloud of smoke that had formed, almost like metal hitting the floor. Then almost as quickly as it had arrived the smoke cleared and the glyphs lost their glow. Both Lana and Theron, as well as the science team, just stood and stared. What else could they do? Where the Commanders had been only moments ago there were now two piles of armor and clothing. The metallic clattering had been from Zeron’s cybernetic leg and the braces that helped Leonar walk hitting the floor; both now detached from their owners. Seeing his jacket shifting ever so slightly, Theron crouched down and inched forward before carefully lifting the red leather. 

“ ** _Fek_**!” 

He jumped back in alarm, almost falling onto his backside as a tiny fluffy head poked up from under the disturbed jacket. Enormous blue eyes took in their surroundings as ears that seemed entirely too big for the face they framed pricked forwards then flicked back as distressed squeaking came from the other pile of heavy leather and armor plates. Lana quickly rushed forward to move the clothing, carelessly throwing items aside until she unearthed an even tinier Cathar who was struggling to free his unmoving legs from clothing that was now far too big. For once the normally eloquent Sith was lost for words as she looked back and forth between the two fluffy kittens struggling to sit up. 

“C- ... **_Commanders_**?” 

This wasn’t happening. Surely not. Their commanders couldn’t be ... 

“Lana. Thewon.” 

Ears still flicking back and forth, the now very much a kitten Commander Zeron Paran looked up at the two startled and alarmed advisors, a distressingly serious look on his adorable childish features. 

“I ... I thin’ we ‘ave a pwoblem.”


	20. Too Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too young to lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of my de-aged Alliance Commanders AU

“What the - **Commander**! Get down from there before you fall!” 

Theron ran over to the main holotable in the Command center and swiftly scooped the freckle faced kitten up into his arms. Zeron whined and pouted, reaching up to bat at Theron’s chin. 

“I wa’ jus’ lookin’ Thewon.” 

Theron let out an aggrieved sigh and shook his head, settling the now sulking Commander against his hip. 

“You **know** that you and the other Commander are on medical leave until this is fixed Zeron. You’re too young to be running the Alliance right now.” 

Zeron huffed and let his head rest on Theron’s shoulder, a childish scowl tugging at his young features. He hadn’t _asked_ to be turned into a toddler! And he could still do some things! He could read reports and direct missions and ... and ... what was he thinking about again? 

He relaxed against Theron, sighing quietly and batting at the fingers that came up to ruffle his mane. This was nice. He felt safe like this. Safe and cared for. No ... no he didn't have _time_ for that! Shaking his head abruptly, the de-aged Cathar shoved roughly at Theron’s shoulder. He was one of the two Alliance Commanders! He had _responsibilities_! Responsibilities that could not be set aside just because he was currently a child! 

“Pu’ me **down** Thewon! I ... I’m no’ a kitten!” 

He just happened to look like one at the moment that was all! Theron sighed, ignoring Zeron’s attempts at shoving his shoulder. Who knew having two Cathar kittens running around the base would be so ... so _stressful_? They’d already had to kitten-proof the command center, the Force Enclave ... even the hangar! Child locks were now on every door and there were child-proof doors barring the entrances to the cantina. Which coincidentally also had the added bonus of keeping any inebriated Alliance members in the cantina until they’d sobered up. 

“ **Thewon**!” 

Another tired sigh escaped Theron and he shook his head, refusing to look at Zeron. He’d already fallen for those huge hyperspace blue eyes once, he wasn’t going to put himself in a position to do so again. Lana had given him one of her acidic lectures for that mess ... something he’d rather _not_ experience again. 

“Nope. Sorry Commander but this is for your own good.” 

Keeping the two kittens occupied was a full time job and with the occupants of the Lab of Evil Laughs busy, babysitting tended to fall to the inhabitants of the Force Enclave. Entering the unusually stressed Enclave, Theron held the pouting Commander out to a rather flustered looking Jedi. 

“I believe you had an escapee.”


	21. Acting Like a Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kittens can be such troublemakers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of my de-aged Commander's AU XD

"Commander **no**!" 

"Commander! I said no!" 

" **No** Commander." 

And so it went on. Keeping Leonar out of things that could potentially hurt him while he had the body of a three year old toddler was a ... full time occupation. One that the whole Alliance had soon discovered they were all needed for since the tiny Cathar had a knack for getting into practically _everything_. This time it was a box full of droid components that Lana had fished him out of, fighting to keep the stern look on her face as he growled and squirmed in her grip. 

"Now Commander, you've been told before that you need to stay in the Force Enclave until we can find a cure for this. You're just too ..." She paused at the evil look the tiny fluffball gave her. They all knew how sensitive the Commander was about his height or lack thereof. Being shrunk down to his three year old body hadn't changed that. If anything he was worse now. The Sith Lord noticed that the mini-Commander's lip was starting to stick out in a pout and she shook her head. 

"That might work on Koth and Theron Commander but I **assure** you it won't work on me." 

She sighed and propped the sulking Cathar on her hip. How had this become her life?! 

"Come along. Back to the Enclave with you." 

Leonar instantly started to struggle and squirm, almost falling out of Lana's grip. He growled childishly and kicked out at her hands. 

" **No**! I don' wanna!" 

He was utterly sick and tired of being treated like he was breakable and too young to understand anything. Just because he had the body of a toddler ... he growled angrily and tried to squirm free of Lana's firm grip. 

"Lemme go Lana! I don' need babyin'!" 

He managed to kick her in the side and dropped to the floor in an ungainly heap as the unfortunate Sith yelped in pain. Scrambling to his feet and ignoring the pained twinge running down his back, Leonar quickly took off at a stumbling run. He needed to find HK. The assassin droid would help hide him he was sure. There were advantages to being HK's favorite meatbag after all. But the tiny Commander didn't get far before he tripped over his own feet and crashed into a pair of legs with a loud squeak. Falling back onto his backside, he struggled to fight back the childish urge to sniffle and rub at his bruising nose as Senya crouched down in front of him. The Knight had a stern but kind look on her face as she offered Leonar her hand. 

"I believe that's enough excitement for one day Commander." 

Leonar batted her hand away and clumsily got back to his feet, unsteady legs wobbling despite his braces. 

"I ain' a kid Senya." 

"So you like to keep telling us. And yet you **insist** on acting like a child." 

Ignoring Leonar's attempts to fend her off, Senya picked the kitten up and carefully propped him on her hip. Leonar fought and squirmed, but Senya's grip was firm and her armor perfectly capable of fending off his tiny fists. Eventually Leonar let out an angry huff and flopped forward, letting his head rest on Senya's shoulder as he sulked. He didn't enjoy being treated like a kitten one bit, but Senya was a lot harder to escape than Lana or the Jedi and Sith in the Force Enclave. He'd just have to wait until theiir guards had dropped again and then he'd be off. There was apparently a delivery coming in that sounded very interesting from what Hylo had been telling Theron (yes he'd been eavesdropping but since they insisted on keeping him and Zeron out of the loop while they were kittens he'd had little option!) A shipment of blasters headed for the Empire had fallen off a transport. Such a shame. He wondered if HK would accept first pick in return for distracting his minders ...


	22. Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They saved him ... that has to count for something right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the tags; this snippet does include child slavery practices and implied child abuse; and a kid being rescued from that situation
> 
> This is basically the origins of my Dark Jedi Knight Saja'rav'din; more about the cranky bubblegum can be found on my tumblr ^^

The Imperial’s hadn’t been expecting them … and the destruction of the small outpost had been a rather short affair. The clean up was taking longer as troopers scavenged what they needed from the still intact crates of supplies and checked datapads and other tech for any usable intel. One pair of troopers were clearing away snow from a few half-covered crates when one of them looked up sharply. 

“Hey hold up …” 

His companion paused and looked at him; helmet doing nothing to conceal their irritation. 

“Rav we ain’t got time for this mate. We need to finish up here then get back before the Imps show up again.” 

Rav ignored his companion and carefully made his way around the pile of crates. He was sure he’d heard something … 

“Rav! Kark it you **idiot**!” 

“Shut it; I heard something.” 

Rav paused when he heard the sound again. It … it sounded like … nah. Couldn’t be … Rav pushed a crate aside and jumped back; a curse hovering on his lips. 

“ ** _Corellian hells_**! It’s a **kid**!” 

Indeed it was. A tiny, dirty, scrawny blue child dressed all in rags; their hands and feet wrapped in tattered bandages and … Rav felt sick to his stomach. Clamped tight to the poor kid’s neck was a shock collar. One that, judging by the scars just visible through the grime around the kid’s neck, was well used. Rav knew that slavery was rife in the Empire … but he’d never thought that they’d stoop so low as to enslave children. 

“Hey … hey it’s alright.” 

He crouched down to try and seem less threatening, holding out a hand as the kid tried to curl up even smaller than they already were. Poor little mite … Rav didn’t want to even try and comprehend what they had been through. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya kid. I’m with the Republic.” He removed his helmet and ran a hand through his hair with a tired sigh. “See? I’m nothing to be scared of.” 

But the kid just wouldn’t move. Whether it was fear or the cold that kept them curled up like that Rav didn’t know; but what he did know was that he couldn’t leave a kid out here in the cold surrounded by dead bodies. 

A tiny painful gurgling sound followed by a hitched gasp drew the distracted soldier’s attention back to the little slave child. Stars the kid had to be starving! Which … which might work to his advantage. Pulling a ration bar from his belt, Rav quickly unwrapped one end of the bland but nutritious stick and held it just within the kid’s reach if they were to uncurl themselves. 

“Here.” 

The child flinched but didn’t make a move for the ration bar. If it wasn’t for the occasional hitches of sound coming from the tiny shivering pile of rags and bandages then Rav would’ve thought that the poor kid had already perished. It felt like he was crouched there in the snow for an eternity before bandage wrapped fingers darted out and snatched the ration bar before vanishing just as quickly back into the rags of the kid’s clothing. The kid inhaled the ration bar so quickly that they almost choked on it, pained coughs shaking their entire body as they struggled to swallow. Rav sighed and shook his head. Damn what a mess. 

“No one’s gonna take it off you kiddo. You don’t have to rush.” 

As the child’s coughing subsided, Rav carefully reached forward again, this time carefully trying to pull the child towards him and out of the snow. A thin cry escaped the child and they tried to pull away from the soldier, tears glistening in their eyes. Rav didn’t let the child squirm free though, scooping them up and holding them close to his chest as he finally got to his feet; his knees protesting painfully from having been bent for so long. He gently bounced the child in his arms to try and calm them as he made his way back over to his partner. 

“We should take ‘em back with us.” 

His partner looked at him then looked down at the trembling bundle in Rav’s arms. For a moment Rav thought he might object but instead the other soldier just sighed roughly and shook his head. 

“ **Fine**. They’re your problem though.” 

Rav nodded and looked down at his precious package. The kid had curled up once they realised that he wasn’t going to let them go, so now all Rav could see other than the rags was grimy tufts of what looked like ... 

“Pink hair. Huh ...” 

Blue skin and pink hair ... Rav wondered if the kid was a Pantoran like he was. There was no saying for sure though until they got the kid back to base and cleaned up. One thing was certain though, they’d saved a life today. They’d given this kid freedom, and a chance to do whatever they wanted. And that ... surely that had to count for something. A thought came to Rav and he hummed thoughtfully. 

"Kid's gonna need a name." 

His partner snorted and clambered clumsily onto one of the two waiting speeders. 

"You found them you name them." 

Rav frowned thoughtfully as he climbed onto his own speeder, shifting the kid in his arms so that he could at least clumsily and slowly pilot the confounded contraption single handed. A name ... he still wasn't sure what race the kid was. He knew some of the various races throughout the Galaxy had certain naming conventions; the last thing he wanted to do was cause a cultural problem for the kid by not naming them properly. Settling himself onto the speeder more comfortably, Rav spared one last glance down at the kid to make sure they were settled when his eyes spotted letters and numbers engraved into the shock collar. Resolving to have the collar removed as soon as they reached base, Rav took his hand off the speeder's throttle and scrubbed at the engravings with his thumb. He was rewarded with what looked like an ID number, and what he guessed might actually be the kid's name. 

"Saja. Huh ..." 

He noticed though that the kid had shifted at the assumed name and grinned. He wouldn't have to worry about figuring out a name for the kiddo ... for Saja after all. Setting his free hand back on the speeder's throttle, he slowly accelerated away from the battleground. 

"Well Saja, welcome to the Republic."


	23. Patched Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sommin's Nar Shaddaa exploits often leave him in need of medical care. Luckily he found someone more than happy to do that for him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is answering a prompt I received on tumblr from bunny-loverxiv ... it was actually an art prompt but my artistic skills are ... lacking to say the least. So I thought a fic would be a good compromise ... it's still creative ^^

“So ... tell me again how this happened?” 

Sommin yelped loudly and arched away from the hands slowly guiding the suture needle in and out of his skin. Panting heavily as he fell limply back onto his side, the Mirialan couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“I told you. I was breaking up an arms deal. Things ... things didn’t go to plan.” 

He bristled slightly at the not unkind laughter before sighing as the cooling tingle of fresh kolto greeted his skin. Honestly, it wasn’t like he had asked for that explosion to fling him onto the montrals of one of the Torgruta gang members that he’d been brawling with! Although it was certainly a novel way of getting stabbed ... twice even. At the same time. And the end result was all that really mattered, with the illegal weapons destroyed and several gang members currently enjoying the hospitality of the SIS. 

“There. All done. Just let me put a bandage over them, keep them clean.” 

Sommin stayed still as those strong hands almost tenderly wrapped his torso in bandages, pushing himself up onto his elbows when asked so that his companion could work. A happy noise and a hand on his shoulder told Sommin that everything was done and he slowly sat up, wincing at the pain in his back and chest. 

“I know you like to run yourself into the ground but please try and show some restraint? At least until your bandages need changing.” 

Sommin laughed tiredly and ran his hand down his face before leaning over to gently brush a kiss against his companion’s cheek. 

“For you Jonas I’ll try. But no promises.” 

Although he’d at least try to get stabbed by a knife next time.


	24. Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's always too late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst!

He looked around at the carnage, eyes widening in sickened horror at the devastation that had been brought upon his home. Everywhere he looked there were massive craters from airstrikes; shattered statues and masonry from the once beautiful architecture ... and even ... even the fallen bodies of other Jedi. He could tell by their armor that most of the fallen were Guardians like he had once been ... tasked with being the Temple's first line of defence in case of an attack. They had done their duty ... and the Force had called them home. But not him. Because he _hadn't_ been here. Instead he'd been in his self imposed exile on Nar Shaddaa and hadn't found out about the attack until long after it had happened. Too late. He was _always_ too late. 

*** 

It had stared out as a fairly normal Nar Shaddaa day. Sommin had come in from a night of putting the fear of him into the local gangs; blearily mumbled a greeting to Jonas as his ... boyfriend? Partner? Roommate? ... left for work, and then flopped down in bed without so much as taking his boots off. Jonas would grumble and grouse about him getting alley muck on the bed later, but he was just too _tired_ to care. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he was rather rudely awakened by the door to the apartment slamming open. Rolling from the bed with a startled yelp as he grabbed for his lightsaber, Sommin could only look up from his rather undignified sprawl on the floor at Jonas' unusually pale face. 

"Jonas?" 

For once the silver tongued spy seemed to be lost for words. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he opened it again; but no sound was forthcoming. Confused and concerned, Sommin slowly got to his feet. Setting his lightsaber on the bed, he walked over to Jonas and gently took the spy's hands in his own. 

"Jonas? I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong." 

"It's Tython ..." Jonas' words were a dry croak and he couldn't meet Sommin's eyes. "The Empire just launched a massive strike on the Temple. Reports are saying that the Emperor's Wrath led the assault." 

It was like the ground had just been cut out from under him. Tython. His home. The only home he'd ever really known. Attacked by the Empire ... by that homicidal _bitch_ that called herself the Emperor's Wrath. Trembling as he inhaled deeply in an attempt to control the bubbling pool of anger that was welling up inside him, Sommin closed his eyes and bowed his head. He just ... he needed a moment. He'd come so far, he didn't want to set his recovery back. Again. 

"Can you -" 

"Ship's already fueled and waiting." 

God's of his ancestors he could kiss that man. 

*** 

That had been two days ago. The ship that Jonas had ... borrowed? Commandeered? Blatantly requisitioned for a totally fabricated mission? Claimed to have 'pre-emptively loaned'? ... outright stole, had been fast yes. Just not fast enough. The battle had been over by the time he'd arrived ... the Temple in ruins and the Imperials celebrating. Jonas had been silent as he skillfully piloted the ship past the Imperial blockade and set her down out of sight and scan range. Not that they knew anyone would be expecting a ship to be arriving now. Not with the Order understandably still reeling from the unexpected and blisteringly brutal attack. Sommin froze at the bottom of the loading ramp, hesitant to set foot back on the planet that had been his home for as long as he could remember. But with Jonas' reassuring hand on his shoulder he inhaled and made that step, a small sad smile flickering across his face. It felt ... it felt like he was _home_. Tython _knew_ her children, lost or not, and welcomed them all equally. But right now was not the time to be getting distracted. Sommin inhaled again and set out into the forest, trusting his instincts and the Force to guide him to the Temple. 

He wished he hadn't. 

Bodies everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. Old Masters. Knights in their prime. Padawans barely old enough to hold their first training 'sabers. All of them mercilessly cut down. Whether by blaster shot or lightsaber, the result was still the same. Sommin swallowed hard, fighting against the rising tide of rage as he looked around at the devastation. This ... this had been hos _home_. Had been the home of thousands of Jedi. And in one fell swoop the Empire had come storming in and had taken that away from them. Distant laughter and a cry of pain dragged Sommin back to the present moment and he broke into a flat sprint, following the sounds. He had been too late to stand in defence of his home. He'd be damned if he didn't at least _try_ to do something now he was here. Skidding to a halt at the lip of one of Tython's many river valleys, Somin looked around for the origin of the laughter and the crying. What he saw made his blood _boil_. 

A Jedi, barely a Knight from the looks of them, cornered by Imperials. A Sith stood nearby, lazily observing the spectacle with a cruel smile on their face. In that single moment as he looked down at the sickening scene something snapped in Sommin. It was ... it was like taking that first step off a waterfall and dropping into the plunge pool below. The Force grwe heavy and oppressive, flaring with a seething rage that rose up like an ice cat stalking taun-taun. Not even waiting for Jonas (the agent having shown his impressive sense of self preservation by staying a good ten feet back), Sommin jumped off the edge of the valley wall and dropped down with the fury of a striking meteor. He landed with a heavy thud, the Force around him splintering the very ground. His abrupt arrival and the rage he brought with him quickly got the attention of the Imperials, Sith and Jedi as he stood, lightsaber already in hand. His face contorting into a truly savage snarl, his orange streaked gaze fell on the clearly uneasy Sith. Good. They should be afraid. 

" ** _Get. Away. From. The Jedi._** "


	25. Oops?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is going to _murder_ his idiot brother ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starring the twins Drayce and Gwaine; newly created twin older brothers of my tired boy Sommin!

“Well? We taking the job or not?” 

Gwaine sent his brother a ‘shut up now’ glare and went back to reading the contract. It seemed simple enough. A dispute between two Hutts had got to the point where one had privately put a hit out on the other. The pay was adequate and, once again, they were broke. Ammo didn’t come cheap these days! Not with both the Imperial and Republic military’s stockpiling the damn stuff. How were hunters supposed to keep themselves kitted out when there was _no_ kit to be bought, stolen or borrowed?! Especially when certain _someone's_ went through the damn stuff like a kid through a candy store?! A frown tugged Gwaine’s brows downwards before he sighed and tapped the datapad screen, putting his and his brother’s names against the job. 

“Yeah Drayce we’re taking it. We need the creds.” 

*** 

The job itself went off without a hitch. It was ... it was _too_ easy actually. Storm the safe house, wreck the joint, put a blaster shot through the cowardly ball of slave trading slime trying to hide behind droid bodyguards. Those ended up so much scrap metal too. As he toed the still sparking remains of one of the IG series bodyguard droids, Gwaine couldn’t help but frown. He'd bet his tattoos that there should have been a better fight than this. 

“This was too easy.” 

“Ah who cares!” 

Drayce looked up from where he was rifling through the pockets of one of the few bounty hunters that had had the misfortune of getting in his way. The Mirialan grinned and pocketed the handful of credits that he’d scavenged. Gwaine sneered in disgust. Bloody magpie his brother. Sometimes he wondered how the hells they were related at all. Ignoring the disgusted disdainful look his brother was giving him, Drayce started to ferret around for any stray charge packs that had survived the fight. 

“We got the job done so we’ll get that nice paycheck rather than these idiots. End of story.” 

*** 

Only it _wasn’t_ the end of the story. The moment they’d walked into Nem’ro’s main audience chamber the twins were greeted by blasters on all sides. Carefully pushing a blaster out of his face with a finger, Gwaine frowned up at the Hutt. He _didn't_ like this. Not one bit. And his mama (ah mama ... heart of gold and stickiest fingers in the galaxy. He owed her so much ...) had always told him to listen to his instincts. 

“You turning on your own hired hunters now Nem’ro? That’s **bad** business.” 

Rumbling laughter instantly got the twins backs up and they shifted so that they were standing back to back, facing out at the fairly large crowd of scumbags. Nem’ro continued to laugh, flabby arms flailing in his mirth. 

“ _You thought it would be that simple hunters? That you could just kill my rival for me and that would be it_?” 

Drayce rolled his eyes and spared an irritated glance at the Hutt. 

“Well **duh**. That’s what the contract was.” 

The sinister laughter that followed told the twins _everything_. They had been set up. Set up to take the fall for what was probably an insanely blatant power grab. One that normally wouldn’t be tolerated by the Hutts ... unless there was someone else to pin the blame on. Red eyes blazing with fury, Drayce rounded on Nem’ro, hands dropping to his blasters. 

“You stinking **_schutta_**! You set us up!” 

Gwaine saw what was going to happen but he was just too slow. His brother never had been able to keep a lid on his temper ... nor curb his very twitchy trigger fingers. The blond twin’s eyes widened in alarm as almost in slow motion his darker haired brother pulled a blaster and fired a shot directly into Nem’ro’s smirking visage. For a moment there was a stunned silence, all eyes having been drawn to the Hutt. Slowly, oh so _painfully_ slowly, Nem’ro’s massive bulk slumped forward until his bloated mass toppled off the dias. Gwaine stared at the still corpse for a moment before slowly turning to look at his still fuming brother. Oh he was going to _kill_ him. 

“ **What**. **Did**. **You**. **_DO_**?!” 

Drayce, his blaster still smoking slightly, looked at Gwaine with a false wide eyed innocence that they had both cultivated when helping their parents lie to various space port authorities. Not that it fooled Gwaine one bit but hey, worth a shot. 

“Oops.”


	26. The Wrath of the Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is the Wrath ... how could she turn her back on the Empire?

"So it's **treason** then?" 

The words, soft and disturbingly gentle, slipped around the now silent hangar, deadly and sinister in their finality. Sister glared at sister, the Wrath's lip curled in a savage snarl while the Cipher's fingers twitched almost imperceptibly towards one of her many poison soaked vibrodaggers. No one dared so much as breathe as they watched the two Torgruta. Who would strike first? The Wrath? All cold arrogance and blazing rage? Or the Cipher agent? Loyal to the point of near rabid fanaticism and lethal perfectionism wrapped up in a tiny slim poisonous package. The silence was abruptly broken when the Wrath grinned with all the ferocity of a Krayt dragon. 

"Treason would imply that I was betraying **my** Empire. But that Empire is **dead**. It died the moment it rolled belly up and chose **cowardice** over a glorious end." 

Serpent like green eyes met hawkish gold and the Cipher's lip curled in disgust for but a heartbeat before a sickeningly sweet smile caused her lips to curve upwards. Even the droids shivered now. On anyone else that smile would've been adorable. But not on the Cipher. On the Cipher it was disturbing and false. Just like she was. 

"Of **course**. I forgot what a glory hound you were **dear** sister." Her smile suddenly turned nasty. "Just like our father. And you know what happened to him." 

The Wrath struck. Golden eyes suddenly blazing a molten orange, she moved with a speed that belied her size. Even the Cipher barely had time to shriek with outrage before the sound was cut off as strong blue fingers wrapped around her slim throat. A burning Force presence seemed to ignite around the Wrath and the Cipher, despite all her training, _howled_ in agony as that heat spread around her neck, burning finger marks deep into her skin. Their faces so close they were almost touching, the Wrath glared down at the writhing Cipher. 

"You do not **ever** mention him. You do not **deserve** to be of his bloodline. And as I have warned you in the past **sister** ..." Her grip tightened and the Cipher's howl turned to an agonized shriek. "If I **ever** find out that you had something to do with his death ... I will **destroy** you." 

The Wrath let her sister go and stood, drawing herself up to her full and magnificent height. Looking down her aquiline nose at the crumpled heap of Cipher, all the Wrath could do was sneer in disgust. 

" **I** am Darth Cremar. I am the **Wrath**. It was I who tore apart the Republic's **precious** War Trust. It was **I** that razed both Tython and the Green Jedi Enclave on Corellia. You think you can force **me** to do anything I do not wish to?" The Wrath laughed. It was not a nice sound. "Run back to your masters little Cipher. Tell them they can take the titles I have **earned** from my cold dead hands." 

It was a powerful declaration. One that stunned even the Imperials that were still trying to decide where their true loyalties lay. It was both a declaration of her power and a _dare_. A challenge to the fragile Empire still recovering from losing it's Empress _and_ any chance of claiming the super weapons of Iokath. The Cipher could only glare at her sister with undisguised loathing. Anyone and everyone that was the slightest bit Force sensitive could tell that right at that very moment, only her healthy self preservation instinct was stopping the Cipher from trying to strike down the Wrath then and there. Silence once more filled the hangar like water flooding into a dried up lake bed and the Cipher slowly got to her feet, the Wrath's hand print still a livid burn wrapped around her neck. 

"I shall take your ... **decision** ... to the Emperor. He can decide how best to answer your **claim**." 

She spat out the words like each one pained her, green eyes so full of hatred for the taller Torgruta. The Wrath just grinned insolently back. No fear. No concern. Just pure confidence infused with an earned arrogance. Oh how she _hated_ the Wrath. Turning on her heel with such precision that would make an Imperial officer weep for joy, she stalked towards the waiting shuttle that would ferry her back to the Empire. Back to where her loyalties truly lay. 

"Jekai." 

The Cipher froze, one foot delicately hovering just above the loading ramp, and looked over her shoulder at the Wrath. She _dared_? After all these years ...? She chewed on her words for a moment before deciding that since her _dear_ sister had deigned to use her actual name then she would respond in kind. 

"Yes Copaani?" 

The Wrath smirked. 

"Tell old Vowrawn that the Alliance's Wrath sends her regards. And that if he **dares** try to take what's **mine**." 

Golden eyes flashed that magma-esque orange once more. 

"Then there is nowhere in this Galaxy that he can hide from me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cremar - Catalonian for 'burn'


	27. Joining the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's so _small_ ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raan belongs to the absolutely AWESOME @darkshadeless ... and this fic is spawned from a conversation we had about what might have happened if our Jedi had been in the same 'verse

Orgus sighed in frustration as he headed towards the training grounds, his newest charge in tow. All he'd asked for was a few hours ... a few _hours_!!! Just enough time to get his newest student settled in. But _no_. Instead he was on his way to the training grounds because a certain pair of _brats_ had decided that today of all days was the day they pushed Master Kaedan's buttons to the point of explosion. Already he could hear the irate Master's bellows (the man sounded like a wounded tauntaun when he got going) and was about to pick up the pace when a startled squeak and a soft thud stopped him. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled gently and turned to pick up his new charge from where they had fallen in a bundle of robes and kitten fluff. 

"Careful now Raan. I don't want you getting hurt." 

He carefully brushed some stray pine needles off Raan's tunic before looking over his shoulder as Master Kaedan's bellowing graduated up from wounded tauntaun to pissed off wampa. A noise that wasn't a groan or a tired sigh but rather a strange combination of the two seemed to slip free of the old Master without his permission and he shook his greying head. Oh what was he going to _do_ with those two?! 

"Master?" 

Orgus blinked before returning his attention to Raan. The young Cathar was looking up at him, honey golden eyes absolutely huge and full of nervousness as he chewed on his bottom lip. Sighing, Orgus gently ruffled Raan's mane, making the kitten giggle and bat shyly at his hand. 

"Sorry Raan. I was ... distracted. Your lineage mates can be rather ..." Orgus frowned. He didn't want to color Raan's thoughts of his lineage mates before the young Cathar had even met them. "Interesting." 

Yes. Interesting was a safe word. Safe enough at least. Slowly straightening up from his crouch, struggling to hide his wince as his knees protested the movement, Orgus smiled reassuringly at Raan before turning and walking onto the training grounds. frantic footsteps behind him told him that Raan was following, but he didn't say anything. There was no fairness in leaving Raan alone at the edge of the training grounds, the kitten may as well tag along. Following the sounds of Mater Kaedan's dulcet tones, he soon found the irate Master reading a certain duo of widely grinning Cathar the riot act. 

"- Should throw you both out of the Order for this latest stunt! **Never** in all my years have I -" 

"Is there a problem Jaric?" 

Orgus smiled serenely as Master Kaedan whirled around to face him, the slightly older Master huffing and puffing like an old bull Bantha. For a moment it seemed like he would unleash yet another blistering tirade, only instead his eyes narrowed and his words hissed out from behind tightly grit teeth. 

" ** _You deal with them_**." 

Master Kaedan stormed off in a huff, going through what had to be the most aggressive breathing exercises Orgus had seen from him to date. Biting the inside of his cheek to avoid smiling, he turned a stern look onto the two unrepentant teenagers grinning at him. Little shits. What was _he_ supposed to do with them? Ignoring the little voice at the back of his mind muttering about how they'd make a rather handsome pair of throw rugs, Orgus just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He hadn't wanted to take them on in the first place ... he'd still been mourning Bengel when the GrandMaster had asked him to take them on as a favor to her. They had just lost their own Master and were hurting just as he was hurting. He had slowly learned to stop comparing them to Bengel and to enjoy teaching again just as they learned to open up to him; both teacher and students healing. It had led to Orgus wondering sometimes if he regarded the two brats in front of him as his students or as the children he'd never have. 

"What did you two do this time?" 

Leonar grinned, showing off a missing incisor. Great. That'd be _another_ visit to the healers. Shaking his head, Orgus looked to Zeron. Surely the taller of his two students would have an answer for him? But no. Zeron just smirked, blood from his split lip matting his fur. The two teenagers clearly weren't in the mood to play ball today ... which led Orgus to think that whatever they'd done to piss off Master Kaedan the crotchety old Master had deserved. A tug on his tunic and a quiet chirping sound pulled Orgus out of his thoughts ... and caught the attention of the teenagers. Their eyes lit upwith mischief and they looked down at the tiny kitten hiding in Orgus' shadow. Leonar's lips quirked up in an evil smirk and Zeron let out a bark of laughter. 

"Who's the fluffball Master?" 

*** 

Raan didn't know what to think. Hiding in Orgus' shadow, one hand gripping tightly to the old Master's tunic, he warily eyed the two much older Padawans. They were both at that scruffy awkward adolescent stage that he'd read about in his books; soft baby fur giving way to the slightly coarser and shorter fur of adult Cathar. They were intimidating too; their gawky limbs and practical training clothes doing nothing to hide the lithe powerful muscles. The shorter of the two had a slightly stockier look about him; shoulders wide with a broadness he hadn't yet grown into; while the taller was slimmer; with a build more like a runner. Raan shivered and chirped, tugging at Orgus' tunic. He didn't like being around these two older Cathar ... he didn't want to admit it but they scared him. Making a noise was probably the worst thing he could have done though as it instantly drew their attentions to him. They were even more intimidating now that they were looking at him directly. Raan could see Leonar's missing tooth as the stocky Cathar grinned fiercely, and the Cathar-appropriate band-aid slapped over the bridge of his nose. He could see the split in Zeron's lip pulling as the tall Cathar laughed, and where his cheek was swelling and bruising. The eyes of the teens were what intimidated him the most. Eyes of jade green and eyes of hyperspace blue sparkled meanly with barely restrained amusement and ferocious curiosity. Raan shrunk back under the intensity of those two pairs of eyes until a low growl from Orgus instantly brought the two teenagers up short and they looked at him in surprise; Leonar's ears flattening in a clear 'don't interrupt' while Zeron's ears flicked in a more curious 'explanation' movement. 

"Back off the pair of you. You're scaring him." 

Orgus frowned until his more unruly students backed down, their ears drooping in such a way that they were ... rather reluctantly ... apologizing for their behavior. Orgus sighed and gently shifted Raan out from behind him, although he didn't make the kitten let go of his tunic. Placing a gentle hand on Raan's head and gently ruffling his mane, Orgus threw his patented ' _Behave_ ' Glare (trademarked of course) at both Leonar and Zeron. This was not how he had really wanted the introductions to go ... he knew that his two teenage students were stubbornly clingy and possessive despite his best efforts. And Raan was just so shy and timid. He _had_ hoped for much slower and more controlled introductions but that was out the window now. 

"Boys this is Raan. He's going to be joining our little family."


	28. Academy Spats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shouldn't be bothering what is _his_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ven'fir Polaris is the fabulous arrogant peacock of a Mirialan that belongs to the awesome @mercurypilgrim! Thanks for letting me write him!

" **Really**? Is that the **best** you can do?" 

Copaani pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand, closing her eyes in frustration. Ignoring the struggling Mirialan she had pinned to the wall, she eventually looked over her shoulder, eyes narrowing. 

"Polaris. I don't recall anyone asking **you** your opinion." 

A huge shit eating grin stretched lazily across the aristocratic Mirialan's face and he sauntered over, perfectly tailored Academy robes billowing dramatically around him. Stopping just out of the taller Sith's grabbing range, he didn't fancy getting strangled thanks (the bruises would clash _horribly_ with his outfit), Ven'fir folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. 

"Darling I quite frankly don't care. When you insist on harassing a friend of mine then I simply **must** have a say in the proceedings." He smirked evilly, voice dropping to a low purr. "And honey, purple is **so** not your color. You look like a walking bruise." 

*** 

Sommin didn't know what he'd done to earn Copaani's wrath this time. The Torgruta had been in a near permanent foul mood ever since Baras had ordered her to 'monitor' him. It didn't seem to matter to her that he didn't want to be here. But then again, nothing he wanted mattered at all anymore. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop with the strange Mirialan Sith he'd bumped into a few weeks ago. Ven'fir was ... strange if one was so inclined to not put too fine a point on it. Outright eccentric and bizarre were other terms that came to mind with the flamboyant, jubilant and forever attention seeking Sith. Anyhoo, Ven'fir's ... _interesting_ personality aside, Sommin had to admit he was grateful that the Sith had shown up when he had. Death by Sith Apprentice was not on his to do list. 

"And honey, purple is **so** not your color. You look like a walking bruise." 

Sommin winced as Copaani dropped him on his arse as she whirled around to square off against Ven'fir. He _dared_?! Did he forget where they were now? The Academy was neutral ground among all the great Sith Houses, a place where family protections were pretty much neutered. Yet it seemed that Ven'fir had forgotten just _who_ he was dealing with. Or the more likely reasoning was that he did know ... he just didn't give a shit. Truly his arrogance knew no bounds. The Mirialan just grinned and tsked his tongue, wagging a finger chidingly in Copaani's face. He was lucky she didn't bite it off. 

"Now now, you know the rules. No **unauthorised** fighting among Apprentices to the same Master." 

" _Copaani mirshmure'cye_?" Copaani's tone was outright dangerous as she glared at Ven'fir. " **Careful** Polaris. Your Lady mother isn't here to provide skirts and influence for you to hide behind. And even our Master must sleep at some point." 

Throwing a truly lethal look at Sommin that promised retribution later, the insulted and angry Torgruta turned sharply on her heel and stalked off down the corridor, montrals bristling with barely restrained rage. Sommin released the breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding and picked himself up, rubbing at his bruised elbow before giving Ven'fir a thoughtful look. 

"You like to live dangerously, **don't** you?" 

Ven'fir lazily flapped a hand in Sommin's face, making the white haired Mirialan back up or risk getting smacked in the face. Considering the claws that Ven'fir insisted on having on his gauntlets, a smack could be rather painful. 

"Oh she's all bark is our dear Copaani. Nothing to worry about at all." He grinned, showing off the sharp fangs that were so prevalent in their species. "And besides, she's just so **fun** to needle!"


	29. Different Sisters, Different Reactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was their mother ... and they hated her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned ... this gets dark

## Akaana - The Youngest

"And this just in from our Corellia corespondent! The Sith Lord Delamor has fallen in battle! **I repeat**! **Sith Lord Delamor has been defeated and killed by the Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order**!" 

Akaana spat her beer out and started coughing, ignoring the startled cries of her crew. Waving away a hand that appeared in her slightly blurred vision, the Torgruta roughly wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and gestured over to the bar tender droid. 

" **Oi**! Turn tha' up will ya!" 

The droid obliged as grainy footage of a slim peach skinned Twi'lek wielding a bladestaff faced off against a brawny Torgruta carrying twin red lightsabers. Akaana watched, her green gaze hard and her mouth set in a tight grim line as the footage continued to play. The Twi'lek was dancing circles around the Sith, darting in for swift whirling blows before Force throwing rubble at the Sith to cover her retreats. Not that the Sith wasn't unskilled; red 'sabers flashing in a brutal blaze of savage and heavy strikes; some coming dangerously close to killing the little Twi'lek. But the Twi'lek's fast economic attacks proved the better in this fight and a raucous cheer rose up around the bar as the camera droid observing the fight caught the precise moment the Twi'lek managed to spin her way past the Sith's guard and neatly run her through. Akaana shrugged roughly and turned back to her drink, her expression souring. She needed something stronger. 

"'Ey droid. Gimme a bottle of _tihaar_. **Just** the bottle." 

Ignoring the preprogrammed warnings about the strength of the spirit, Akaana snatched the bottle from the droid before they could even set it down and yanked the cap off, raising the bottle to her lips and chugging down a mouthful before anyone could stop her. It burned a path down her throat and she slammed the bottle back down onto the counter with a growl. _Fek it all_ she'd wanted to be the one to _end_ that _bitch_! And now some ... some fancy titled _Jedi_ would be taking the credit instead! 

"Boss? What's up? That Sith one on your list to kill or somethin'?" 

Akaana snorted roughly and shook her head. 

"Oh **yeah** ... she were **righ'** at the top." 

Raising the bottle again she chugged down two more mouthfuls before looking over to her First Mate, a hard look in her cold green eyes. 

"She were my mother." 

*** 

## Jekai - The Middle Child

"Hey Agent, you might want to see this my dear." 

Jekai's eyes narrowed dangerously and she prowled over to snatch the datapad out of Dr. Lokin's hands. One day she'd _love_ to remove those hands. Preferably with battery acid. But right now Lokin's field experience and knowledge of poisons and other chemical compounds made him invaluable to her. But one day ... one day she'd have no more need of him. And then she could eliminate him. She'd read a report from one of the other Cipher's about a _fascinating_ new torture method that she was just _dying_ to try out. Perhaps Lokin could be her test subject. Once she had extracted every last piece of valuable information he had of course. The idea of making the infuriating old man _scream_ brought a warm feeling to her and a twisted facsimile of a smile started to tug at her mouth before she actually decided to read what was on the datapad she'd snatched. 

"How ... **interesting**." 

Lord Delamor was dead it seemed. And at the hands of some Jedi at that. How ... _unfortunate_. Shrugging callously, Jekai threw the datapad back in Lokin's direction, rolling her eyes as the old agent almost dropped it so surprised was he at getting it back. 

"I fail to see why you thought this required my attention Doctor. It has no bearing on the job at hand." 

_Hunter_. That sorry son of a Hutt would regret _every_ humiliation he had put her through. She would make him _beg_ for the sweet release of death by the time she was done and even then she would make his death as slow and _painful_ as was physically possible. A flash of what might have been anger if she bothered to give a name to what she sometimes felt brought a snarl to her lips before it vanished back under the porcelain smooth mask of indifference that had become the norm for her. She raised an eyebrow coolly at the good doctor and he shrugged. 

"I read your file Agent. Lord Delamor was your mother was she not? If you need some time ..." 

"That will **not** be necessary." 

Vola Delamor might have contributed one half of her genetic material, and the woman might have raised her until she was of an age to be shipped off to boarding school in preparation for the Imperial Academy ... but she was _not_ her mother. Jekai saw no reason to expend any energy for the dead Lord. She had a slippery little bastard to hunt down and _destroy_. 

"There are far more important matters at hand." 

*** 

## Copaani - The Oldest

"Heeeeyyyyy Boss?" 

Copaani lazily decapitated another one of Baras' minions before turning to look at Vette, eyes blazing bright orange in her adrenaline heightened state. She was so _close_ now. So close to finally putting that cowardly sniveling treacherous _bastard_ she had once called a Master _firmly_ in his place. In two pieces. His head under her boot. His smouldering wreck of a bloated corpse slowly emptying itself of blood on the floors of the Dark Council's very chamber. Vowrawn had promised her vengeance and she _would_ have it. So _what_ on Corellia could be _so_ important that Vette distract them from their goal? 

"What is it Vette." 

Vette, having the benefit of actually being someone Copaani called a friend and also having the _biggest_ pair of brass ones going, didn't so much as flinch at the virtual predator she was standing next to. Copaani had long since stopped scaring her. But this news ... Vette carefully inched back a single step. 

"Um Pierce just commed me. Said that the latest casualty reports had just come in from the invasion." 

Copaani's eyes narrowed in annoyance, making her look positively hawkish as she turned to face Vette properly. _Why_ would she care so much about the invasion casualty reports? A Republic Scout foolishly took the opportunity to fire on the Sith with her back turned; the blaster bolt barely scorching her armor before Copaani was reaching behind her with a hand, the Force coiling and striking with her will. Vette shook her head at the choking scout's foolishness, but waited all the same. She knew Copaani _didn't_ like to be interrupted mid-strangle. Eventually the scout stopped kicking like a landed fish and Copaani Force-threw the corpse into the nearest wall with a smug smirk before turning back to Vette. 

"You were saying?" 

Vette sighed. No avoiding the subject now. Copaani could be like a tu'kata on the hunt when she got going. 

"S'Lord Delamor ... your mom? She's been killed." 

Copaani blinked in surprise before a slow grin spread across her face. So ... the old bitch was finally dead huh? _Good_. She'd certainly taken her sweet _bloody_ time in that regard. Abruptly Copaani threw her magnificent head back and barked out bitter laughter; anger, relief and years of restrained hatred all bubbling to the surface at once. 

" **Finally**!"


	30. We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not that either of us are happy about it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the eternally awesome @mercurypilgrim who ages ago wrote an awesome snippet involving their magnificent peacock Ven'fir and my unwilling Sith Sommin ... I said I would write something in return and _finally_ it's happened!
> 
> Ven'fir Polaris belongs to @mercurypilgrim

Even on Nar Shaddaa people knew to get out of the way of a Sith, no matter how disgraced they were. The crowds parted before the dark armored figure as though there was a deflector shield pushing them out of the way. The figure stopped for a brief moment and looked around with narrowed eyes, a couple of young Zabrak scattering as the molten glare fell on them. A few more tense seconds passed before the figure shrugged and continued on their way through the crowded streets. Without warning they deviated from their path, darting down a narrow alleyway and emerging out into a deserted square. The silence was broken by the ‘snap-hiss’ of lightsabers, their purple and crimson blades casting a dark bloody light around the square. 

“I know you’re there.” 

A shadow broke away from the rooftops and dropped down to the ground, landing with a surprising amount of grace. Smoothly rising to their feet, they drew a seemingly antique from the scabbard strapped to their back and spun it expertly in one hand before taking up a two handed grip. The Force curls around them, fierce and dangerous, as runes carved into the blade light up a deep blue. 

“You picked the wrong corner of Nar Shaddaa to come to Sith.” 

The Sith smirked, lip curling back to show sharp canines. So ... someone had the _balls_ to try and dictate to him? He did _not_ like being dictated to ... especially not by some unknown lowlife _thug_. 

“Is that so?” His blades hummed as he slid into his favored combat stance. “And here I thought a Sith could go wherever they pleased.” 

Silence fell on the square as the two combatants started to slowly circle one another, drawing ever closer until the Sith abruptly slashed one of his ‘sabers at the head of his opponent. 

*** 

“Just **DIE** already!” 

How was this bastard able to keep up with him?! _Him_?! He was one of the _finest_ of his generation to survive and graduate from the Sith Academy dammit! Granted yes that hadn’t been enough in the end to protect him from the machinations of his _bastard_ of a former Master but still! 

“Aw ... you gettin’ frustrated? Not being the best hurtin’ your widdle feelings?” 

Orange eyes widened as the words struck a chord, pulling up a long forgotten memory. No ... no _surely_ not. Only one way to find out though. Throwing all caution to the wind, the Sith tossed his ‘sabers aside and rushed his opponent, crashing into them and sending the both of them tumbling to the ground. They scrabbled and struggled in the dirt and detritus, but finally the Sith got a proper look at the face of his opponent. 

“Sommin **bloody** Atlas?!” 

The white haired Mirialan bared his sharp teeth in a fierce grin, orange flecked blue eyes flashing with barely restrained aggression. 

“Ven’fir Polaris. I told you ...” Sommin planted his heavy boots against Ven’fir’s armored stomach and kicked up, using the Force to add a little extra ‘ _oomph_ ’ to his kick. “You **shouldn’t** have come to this part of Nar Shaddaa.” 

Ven’fir couldn’t help but yelp in pain at the force of the kick, tumbling head over arse into a wall as Sommin picked himself up and recalled his blade to his hand. He was feeling nice today so he waited until Ven’fir had got to his feet and also recalled his own blades, the Mirialan Sith’s attractive features contorted in a furious snarl. How _dare_ he! 

“ **I** go where I **please** Atlas. **You** of all people should know that.” 

“Still as arrogant as ever. Seems some things never change.” 

Ven’fir’s eyes narrowed angrily at the barb. He didn’t like this version of the pretty, shy Mirialan he remembered from Korriban. And he certainly didn’t like that Korriban’s ‘Worst Sith’ was capable of keeping him at bay. Keen eyes caught light reflecting off metal and Ven’fir smirked. 

“Confidence in one’s skills and arrogance can be mistaken as one and the same **darling**. At least **I** am not an unwanted and discarded **failed** Jedi.” 

Sommin’s blue eyes flashed a furious orange for a split second and Ven’fir grinned, watching as the crude prosthetic that had replaced the other Mirialan's right hand clenched tight around the hilt of the blade. So, struck a nerve had he? _Good_. Sommin inhaled harshly, eyes closing again as he aggressively exhaled before he looked back at Ven'fir with a cold glare. 

“So? Remind me again which of us is the current galactic **disgrace**? Because it **isn’t** me.”


	31. All I Ever Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was to see you again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the awesome @darkshadeless! Raan is their adorable and awesome Cathar Jedi X3
> 
> "* _speech_ *" - Rodian language

Rishi. A small backwater in the arse end of nowhere that nobody really wanted to go to unless they had something to hide or a crime to run away from. The perfect place for a pair of runaway ex-Jedi to settle down and forget they were ever Jedi in the first place. No one in Raider's Cove was going to look twice at a pair of unknown Cathar taking up residence in the slums and beating up any gang member foolish enough to get too close to _their_ 'patch'. That was simply the nature of the place. So the two newcomers settled into their niche within the population and business continued on as usual. 

Until it didn't. 

*** 

"It seems we have a problem. And by we ..." Lips curled up in a dark sneer. "I mean **you**." 

Having lost the morning's credit toss, Leonar had been saddled with the not so fun task of getting the weekly supplies he and Zeron needed to get by in the slums of Raider's Cove while his cousin got to run around causing chaos for the Corellian Run Scoundrels. Normally that simply meant a visit to Qaraah, the amiable Rishii being a rather patient and competent example of the merchant district. But some items required a more ... _specialised_ merchant. Leonar leaned forward, eyes fixed on the trembling Rodian merchant cowering at the back of the stall. Slowly and deliberately he ran his claws over the worn and pitted wooden surface of the stall table, enjoying how the sound sent shivers through the merchant. 

"Tsk tsk Juunt. You promised us those power packs **last week** remember? And I believe we made it **very** clear what would happen if you bollocksed up our order **again**." 

If he still had his tail it'd be lashing from side to side in anger. But like many things in Leonar's life, his tail had been lost to the war. Still, the stocky Cathar cut an intimidating figure in his dark armor and scuffed jacket as he bared his fangs at Juunt. The Rodian's fear was intoxicating, saturating the Force around him, but Leonar flattened his ears and did his best to shut it out. 

"* _No no! I can get them I promise_! _I'm good for them_! _**Please**_!*" 

Jade eyes flashed a poisonous yellow as Leonar snarled. He wasn't in a good mood as things were, Juunt's begging was just making things worse. 

"Both me **and** my cousin will be here tomorrow morning. They had **better** be here Juunt ... or those credits we spent will be **coming out of your hide**!" 

He stiffened and looked up, casting out with the Force. There ... that presence again. There was something familiar about it ... 

*** 

Rishi was ... nice? It certainly had it’s own rugged charm. And it was so nice to not have thousands of eyes watching his every move, waiting for a potential slip up. Waiting for him to be anything other than the _perfect_ Jedi. Here though on Rishi he was just another spacer, one more face in the crowds for people to look at and then forget. Raan could certainly understand why Lana and Theron had picked this planet to hide on. A sharp sensation through the Force brought Raan to a sudden stop, T7 bleeping a rebuke when they bumped into the back of his legs. Patting the scratched silver dome in apology, Raan cast out with his Force sense again. There, a presence that was neither fully Light or fully Dark and yet was somehow very familiar. 

"C'mon T7." 

Tugging at the lapels of his coat to try and tidy himself up a bit, he was meant to be a pirate Captain after all so appearances had to be upheld, the Cathar started to follow where his senses were taking him. He pushed through the tightly packed crowds in the merchant district, mumbling apologies right and left. Squeezing between two loudly arguing Torgruta with yet another mumbled apology, Raan abruptly found himself in an area almost devoid of beings. Yet this was where the Force had guided him? All he could see was a terrified Rodian cowering behind a stall and their antagonist standing with their back to him. Raan found his hand drifting down to the blaster at his hip (purely _ornamental_ of course, he couldn't shoot to save his life, but he couldn't go around with his lightsaber hanging from his belt) as the figure in front of him slowly turned around. The features were more weathered, the ears more tattered and Sentinel armor had now been substituted for a ragged jacket, rough spacers clothing and cobbled together bits of armor plate, but Raan would recognise one of his lineage mates anywhere. 

"Leonar?" 

*** 

Leonar sighed roughly and ran a hand through his mane. Shit. When he and Zeron had left Tython they had hoped for a clean break ... it was one of the reasons they'd settled in the arse end of nowhere. So what the bloody _hell_ was their baby lineage mate doing here?! Were more of the Order also planet side? Was the Republic coming to Rishi? Why else would the literal poster boy of the Jedi be here?! 

"Raan." 

He turned away from the other Cathar, ears betraying his discomfort as they flicked back and then to the side before back again, and pinned Juunt with a nasty look. He didn't want to have to deal with both Raan and the merchant. 

" **Tomorrow** Juunt. **Don't** disappoint me." 

Ignoring the frantic nods, Leonar looked back over to where Raan was still standing and staring at him. Stars his lineage mate had gone and grown up. Even in the pirate/spacer get up Leonar could still see the Jedi in him. Roughly the older Cathar jerked his head towards one of the bridges leading to the lower levels of Raider's Cove. No way was he having this talk out here in the open, or without Zeron for that matter. He quickly flared his Force presence, knowing that Zeron would sense it and come running. A responding flare in the Force let him know that his cousin was coming and he sighed. 

"C'mon pipsqueak." 

Raan laughed quietly as he joined Leonar in heading towards the bridge. It had been years since he'd last seen his lineage mates but it seemed that time couldn't change some things. 

"I haven't been called that in a long time." He quickly held his hands up when he saw a pained look cross Leonar's face. "Not that I'm complaining! It's ... it's fine." 

Leonar was silent as they descended down to the slums, a shadow having fallen across his face. Why here? Why now? What had brought Raan to Rishi and how the hells could he and Zeron avoid getting dragged back to Tython? He felt Zeron's presence steadily growing closer and stopped, leaning against one of the many support pillars that kept most of Raider's Cove out of the ocean. He frowned at Raan, folding his arms and quietly observing the younger Cathar when his cousin appeared out of the murky haze. 

"Leo I was **busy** you fekking kar- ..." Zeron skidded to a halt, boots sliding awkwardly in the mud when he noticed that Leonar wasn't alone. Instantly the freckle faced Cathar seemed to shut down, scarred face emotionless but for the turmoil in his hyperspace blue eyes. "Raan." 

Raan shifted awkwardly, feeling like a youngling kitten again. He watched quietly as Zeron walked around him to stand by Leonar, the older Cathar's ears pinned back and his tail unusually still, giving absolutely nothing away. He twitched his own ears in a greeting normally reserved for family and smiled awkwardly at the pair. 

"Hey. I ... I uh ... I missed you guys." 

Why did he get the feeling that this was not going to end well?


	32. Can't Trust Anybody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turncoats. Turncoats everywhere.

“Long live the Empire.” 

The cold feel of metal against her rear lek caused the slim Togruta to freeze, eyes widening slightly as cold rage flooded through her. Who dared to interrupt her, Cipher Nine, in her moment of triumph?! A rough chuckle came from behind her and she had to fight to prevent the shiver running up her spine from showing. In front of her Ardun Kothe visible relaxed and let out a sigh. 

“Cutting it a little fine this time aren’t we Seeker?” 

“Nah boss, gotta ‘ave a little drama sometimes right? ‘Sides, s’time I came in from the cold and went back to good honest gun runnin’.” 

Taking advantage of the snarky conversation, Nine whipped around and backhanded the pistol away from her head before freezing. Shock flickered across her face before she shoved the emotion back into its’ compartment and she glared furiously at the smirking Cathar looking down at her. 

“So ... Cipher Seven is a traitor. _Why_ am I not surprised?” She tilted her head ever so slightly. “How long?” 

Seeker snorted harshly, devil-may-care smirk vanishing and her expression turning cold and vicious. 

“Don’t insult me, I’m no traitor. I was _never_ on your side in the firs’ place.” The Cathar holstered her pistol and walked past the tiny Cipher to disable the ray shields imprisoning Kothe. “An’ keep your knife where it is lil’ Ms. Poison. I’ve hung around you too _damn_ long to trust someone like _you_.” 

With the Jedi spymaster free, Seeker turned to face Nine again and folded her arms. What to do with the psychopath? Letting her go would be a blow to the Republic and with her tendency to hold grudges, she’d hunt Seeker to the ends of the Galaxy and back. But Seeker, for all her other faults, was not a murderer ... yet. For Nine she might make an exception. The slim Torgruta glared evilly up at her and snarled, baring her fangs. 

“Republic alien _scum_. I’ll enjoy _skinning_ that liar’s hide off you and pinning it to my wall.” 

Seeker’s ears flattened slightly and her tail lashed from side to side angrily. Rude much? And a little hypocritical seeing as the only human present was Kothe. 

“Yeah yeah. I’ve seen your little trophy hoard Nine.” She huffed and slid her rifle off her shoulder, casually checking that she had enough charges left in the cartridge. “And thanks for the offer but I’m gonna ‘ave to decline.” 

Nine was moving before Seeker could have the chance to fire at her; vibroblade in hand, it’s blade glistening with poison, as she flew towards the Cathar. But Seeker hadn’t bothered even raising her rifle, instead using it like a Chaseball bat and swinging the heavy wooden stock towards the Cipher’s head with every intention of breaking bone. A sudden explosion caused the ground to shake and threw both women off, Nine tumbling away as Seeker threw her tail and arms out to steady herself. Another explosion rocked the compound and Kothe swore viciously. 

“ _Airstrike_! But who ...?” 

“Figure it out _later_ Boss!” 

Seeker picked up her rifle from where she had dropped it and looked over to the exit that Nine was already fleeing through. 

“ _We gotta go_!” 

*** 

Seeker woke up to the incredibly irritating sound of medical machines happily beeping away. Groaning out a tired curse, she opened her eyes slightly before shutting them again with a hiss. 

"Oh fek _off_ big brother, I don't wanna hear it." 

"Tough kittens. Do you have any idea how bloody _worried_ we've all been Leijona?!" 

Golden eye cracking open in pained irritation at the dull roar coming from her (half)brother, Leijona hissed again in warning. She was in no mood for his particular brand of assholery, not with her entire body aching like a building had been dropped on it. Oh wait ... that was exactly what had happened if the last thing she remembered was right. Grunting in pain, the Cathar levered herself up onto her elbows and threw a nasty look at the Jedi leaning in the door. 

"Why are you even here anyway? No planets need saving today?" 

"Oh ha ha bitch. Your boss called both me and our sister, told us you'd been in an _'incident'_." He threw her an incredulous look. "What the hell are you doing working for the SIS? I thought you were running guns for the Cartel?" 

"SIS paid better." Leijona looked around and frowned. "Where is our sister dearest anyway?" 

That got a rude snort from her brother and a momentous eye roll. 

"On the run. _Again_." 

"Figures." 

Leijona sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, frowning when she heard the clatter of metal on metal. Before her brother could even step out of the doorway, she had yanked her blankets back and exposed a still incomplete cybernetic leg. Face decidedly calm, she covered her leg back up and looked over at her brother. 

"Leonar ... _what the ever loving fek's happened to my leg_?"


	33. Family (?) Reunions - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well ... how ... _awkward_

“Remind me why we’re doing this again.” 

Zeron closed his eyes and exhaled harshly through his nose, the very picture of a Cathar on his last nerve as he set the small ship down on the landing pad that the control tower had directed them to. Before he could respond to his whiny cousin, his sister’s already frayed temper snapped and she whirled on Leijona with a hiss; ears flat and hackles up. 

“ _Because we don’t have a choice_! If we want to keep as many Cathar sweet with the Republic and the Alliance as possible then it means having to;” she shuddered. “ _Attend_ these sort of shindigs.” 

Leijona snorted rudely and shook her mane out, tugging at the collar of her uniform in annoyance. She knew all that bantha shit, it didn’t mean that she had to like it. She growled low in her throat when her older sister smacked her hand away and the older Cathar growled right back. 

“ _Don’t_ start.” 

“Get karked. _You’re_ not the one being _throttled_ by your own clothing you lucky bitch!” 

“The advantages of being _Mando’ade_ brat.” Leona harshly cuffed Leijona around the back of the head before buffing her armored knuckles against her breastplate with a smug smirk. Rolling his eyes at his siblings antics, Leonar heaved himself up out of the co-pilot’s chair and took a few stiff steps towards the landing ramp. He ached after the long trip to Rendilii, the braces and implants that allowed him to walk were rubbing uncomfortably and the formal armor/robes combination were not helping the situation. Metal knocking against his hand startled him out of his morose thoughts and he blinked before tiredly accepting the crutch that his cousin was offering him. 

“Anyone says anything I’m hitting them with this. I _don’t_ care if it causes an incident.” 

Zeer’ana just nodded before adjusting the rack of medals on her chest one last time, checking her reflection in the wall of the ship to make sure they were straight. Satisfied that at least one member of their little dysfunctional mess of a family was at least presentable, she hit the access panel for the landing ramp and watched it lower. All five Cathar descended together, Leonar and Zeron leading as Commanders of the Alliance and flanked by their siblings. Zeron’s ears flattened unhappily when he saw the glittering throngs inside the grand mansion and the highly polished butler droids already scurrying to intercept them. 

“It still too late to turn and run?” 

*** 

Protocol at such a soiree dictated that newly arrived visitors had to be first announced to the ballroom at large before they approached the hostess and thanked her for her generous hospitality and invitation. What it really meant was a lot of very unwanted attention falling on the very uncomfortable quintet as they entered. 

“The Commanders of the Eternal Alliance; Leonar Paran and Zeron Paran.” 

Zeron winced and threw a glare at the droid before limping into the ballroom, Leonar painfully walking alongside him and muttering dire threats under his breath at every single Cathar that looked at them. Zeron’s mood only soured further as he and Leonar approached two leonine Cathar standing on a raised dais, resplendent in elegant ruby gowns and glittering with jewels. The two women looked down their noses at the pair of Jedi, disdain and just a hint of disgust on their faces as the pair gave bows that were just barely acceptable in terms of etiquette. Looking up at the pair, his green-gold eyes full of loathing, Leonar’s lip curled in a dark smile. 

“Mother. Aunt.” He took a moment to enjoy the wave of fresh muttering that broke out across the ballroom and the sight of the two older Cathar stiffening in anger. “We were ... _surprised_ to receive your invitation.” 

“ _Indeed_.” Zeron shifted his weight onto his cybernetic leg and looked boldly at his mother and her sister, blue eyes flashing orange for a brief moment as his lip curled into a malicious smirk. “After all it’s been what ... must be over forty years now since you gave us up? And _no_ contact whatsoever; _anyone_ would think that you’d forgotten you’d even _had_ sons in the first place.” 

Any angry response from the two clearly angry hostesses was interrupted by the crier droid again. 

“Colonel Zeer’ana Paran.” 

Every inch the Havoc Squad commanding officer and Colonel that she was, Zeer’ana strode into the ballroom like she was walking to face a court martial; her shoulders stiff and straight, jaw set and eyes fixed firmly on the wall behind the hostesses rather than on the muttering politicians and socialites she was striding past. Head held high as she pushed past her twin and her cousin, she discarded the correct niceties entirely in favor of giving a short sharp bow. 

“Mother. Aunt.” 

An attempt at a sharp retort from the one of the two now furious Cathar on the dais was once again put on hold as the quiet mutterings became scandalised outbursts when Leona and Leijona decided that they’d had enough of waiting and entered, ignoring the poor crier droid’s attempts to announce them. The golden lights of the many crystal chandeliers in the ballroom reflected off Leona’s lovingly well maintained armor, making it gleam dully as the bounty hunter swaggered towards the dais like she owned the place. While not quite as attention catching as her half-sister, Leijona still stood out in the formal black and grey uniform of Alliance Intelligence among the sparkling ensemble of socialites currently staring at her in pearl clutching horror. The two women didn’t even bother bowing, Leona just folding her arms while Leijona barely dipped her head. 

“S’up.” 

*** 

The advantages of such strict social niceties was that the hostesses had to keep their cool for the sake of their public image. Leonar smirked grimly as he sipped at his beer, glare fixed firmly on the dais where his mother and her sister held court. No sign of his father but that was not a surprise ... his father held no rank in the pride other than to sometimes adorn his mother’s arm at the correct functions and to fight in the pride’s defence when required. And to think ... if he hadn’t been Force Sensitive and given up like a hand-me-down toy that would have very likely been the fate he’d been destined for too. Ugh ... no thanks. Talk about eternal purgatory. His ear twitched in a greeting when Leona approached him with her own beer, a look of boredom on the taller Cathar’s battle scarred features. 

“Well ... that went well.” 

Leonar snorted at his twin’s dry tone and sipped at his beer again. Gods of his ancestors he didn’t want to be here but ... politics. That most despised of arenas. So unwanted and yet so unfortunately necessary. 

“Yeah. They _could_ have tried to have us thrown out.” 

Leona laughed harshly, startling two delicate looking young Cathar who nearly jumped out of their silks, and roughly chugged down a mouthful of beer. 

“Yeah ... emphasis on the ‘ _tried_ ’ part.” Her eyes narrowed and she threw a look of pure loathing over at the dais. “I _hate_ them so much for what they did.” 

Picking up on the deep seated anger in both Leona’s tone and her presence in the Force, Leonar groaned and ran his free hand through his mane. He swore ... if the Alliance didn’t turn him grey before his time then his twin would. 

“Just keep your blasters in their holsters ‘til this kark-up waiting to happen is over. We’re here to show that the Alliance is willing to sitting down at the negotiation table and you putting a round through each of our hostesses heads won’t help ... no matter how much they _deserve_ it.”


	34. No Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is the Wrath. She will never surrender.

“I _beg your pardon_?” 

The livid hiss snapped out like a whip across the Dark Council chambers as the statuesque Torgruta sat up sharply in her throne (well ... Ravage wasn’t using it after she threw him out for being a specieist bastard); orange eyes blazing with a murderous light. 

“You want us to **_what_**?!” 

Darth Acina steepled her fingers together, a suspiciously calm look on her face even as she imperceptively shifted in her seat as if to put even the tiniest distance more between herself and the now furious Wrath of the Empire. Darth Nox just sat in silence, a bored look on her tattooed face. Next to her Darth Vowrawn chuckled as if the scene unfolding in front of him was nothing more than one of his great-great grandchildren’s squabbles. 

“She is right my dear Wrath. Zakuul will just keep on coming at us, and the Republic under that utter _imbecile_ Saresh are only dividing our forces further and leaving us without the resources to continue this war. A surrender now is the most logistically sound option.” 

“You speak of _treason_ Vowrawn.” 

Darth Cremar rose from her seat, the twin beskad strapped to her waist clinking quietly against her armor plated legs. Descending the steps of her throne into the center of the chamber, the powerful Torgruta Sith looked upon her colleagues with nothing but disgust on her aquiline features. 

“We are the **_Sith Empire_**! For _generations_ we have _bathed_ this Galaxy in blood as we’ve sought our survival and expansion! Even at our _lowest_ moments our greatest warriors chose _death_ over surrender! Soverus! Vindican! Marr! Force preserve us even **_Malgus_**! All of them _choosing_ the ultimate sacrifice over the utter _disgrace_ of surrender! Who are we to not do the same? Are we too not _Sith_? To roll over and show our bellies before some upstart _brat_ with an inferiority complex smacks of rank _treason_ against the sacrifices each and _every_ one of us, past and present, has made to get our glorious Empire this far!” Darth Cremar paused for a breath and snarled, eyes glowing with the Dark Side as she glared around at the silent Sith. “I swear now before this Council that I will **_never_** offer any surrender ... to Zakuul or the Republic! I swear this on my life and lineage! I will _never_ betray my Empire in such a fashion.” 

The silent ‘and neither should you’ echoed around the chamber as Darth Cremar concluded her speech, the silence only broken by a slow applause from Vowrawn. 

“Such _passion_ my dear, it’s little wonder why you indeed are our Wrath. But do not be so hasty in your vow, the vote to surrender goes on a majority as you well know.” 

Darth Cremar’s lip curled and she sneered coldly at Vowrawn. Oh she deeply despised the old relic, but to be a Sith of his advanced years and still on the Council ... that she could respect. There was a dangerous side to Vowrawn, one she preferred to not get the attention of. 

“If this Council votes to surrender then it shall be _without_ it’s Wrath.” 

Silence. Pure stunned silence. Darth Mortis spluttered in shock in his throne and Darth Nox looked up sharply from the nails she’d been so casually examining. No Wrath had just ... **quit**. Darth Cremar’s predecessor had turned traitor yes, but he technically hadn’t surrendered the title that Cremar now held. It had been stripped from him. If they lost Cremar then they lost her soldiers, her finances, her combat expertise and the sheer power of her charisma in rallying the Empire ... it just didn't bear thinking about. 

“You ... you _can’t_!” 

Acina sat forward in her throne, golden eyes wide with panic. 

“No one just _quits_ being the Wrath of the Empire!” 

Folding her arms, Darth Cremar lifted her head to look Acina in the eye until the sheer anger in her gaze forced the other Sith to look away. 

“ _Try me_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert ... she quit ;)


	35. Last Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They just need the right guiding hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the awesome @darkshadeless; to whom the incredible Overseer Sar and Alliance Commander Raan belong to!

“He’s **late**.” 

The livid hiss made the fact sound like it was a crime worthy of only the most _creative_ punishment. Somminick sighed and folded his arms, slouching against the wall as he watched Sar pace too and fro. The good Overseer’s stringent demands for perfect timekeeping were well known but still ... 

“Sar, he is the Alliance Commander. If something more urgent has come up then we’re just going to have to be a little -” A snarky snarl from Sar cut him off and he arched an eyebrow. How rude. 

“If you **dare** say we have to ‘be a little patient’ then so help me I’ll **strangle** you with your own robes!” 

Well ... that was tame. Sar must not be in as bad a mood as he was making out to be. Made a nice change from the usual sass, snark and murder threats. Raised voices and approaching footsteps soon drew the attention of both frustrated Overseer and curious Jedi. The Commander very rarely, if _ever_ , raised his voice so for him to do so ... Something must indeed be afoot. 

“By the Huntress herself you two! One of these days you’re going to start something you **can’t** finish!” 

As if on cue the Commander rounded the corner and headed towards the two waiting Force sensitives. Trailing along in his wake and looking like they wished to be anywhere else were a pair of scruffy furred near-adult Cathar; their ears pinned back in sulky annoyance and the tail on one lashing from side to side. Sar’s eyes narrowed. He’d seen the pair somewhere before. It clicked just as the three Cathar drew up just in front of him. 

“You little **bastards**!” 

It was the pair of brats that had stolen all the desserts in the canteen; even the ones already on people’s trays. _How_ no one really knew. But the little shits had been caught on the roof of the main command center happily stuffing their faces with mini muja fruit pies. Sar had been looking forward to his ... and thanks to them he’d lost out. And they’d even had the _audacity_ to steal his tea flask too! _That_ at least had been recovered ... from the decontamination shower in the Lab of Evil Laughs. Sar could still swear that it glowed in the dark at night. 

“Ah. I see you know my lineage mates already. Or at least know **of** them.” 

The Commander ran a hand down his face tiredly, golden eyes full of frustration as he snagged the smaller of the two near-adults before he could turn and run back the way they came. The younger Cathar snarled, struggling to free his scruff until a sharp shake had him grumbling and slouching in the Commander’s grip, his ears flicking back and forth in a complicated series of movements that earned another shake and a firm growl. 

“Who shoved your sabers up your ass Raan? Might want your boyfriend to pull ‘em out for you.” 

Raan’s eyes narrowed as his legendary patience stretched to its limit and he cuffed the younger Cathar around the ears, earning a yelp. 

“ **Look**.” Sighing, the clearly frustrated Cathar looked at the two bemused instructors. “My lineage mates here haven’t had a proper instructor in the Force since our Master was killed years ago. And they require ...” Raan paused as he tried to think of the most tactful way to put his thoughts. “More **specialised** teaching.” 

Sar’s eye twitched violently. The Commander wanted _him_ to help _teach_ these little hellions?! They’d been _nothing_ but trouble since arriving on Odessan! Which was a real pain in the behind considering the amount of raw talent they appeared to have. Sar was many things and that included monumentally busy already; what with the arts classes he was now teaching, dodging requests from that persistent pain in his behind to take an apprentice of his own _and_ teaching his regular classes. He opened his mouth to viciously refuse adding miracle working to his already hectic schedule when Somminick doomed them both. 

“Of course Commander. It would be our pleasure.” 

Sar glared evilly at his colleague. Oh the Jeru would be _definitely_ finding it’s way into Somminick’s tea cup for this! Swallowing the vitriol that he’d been about to hiss, he tried his best to smile in agreement. Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, it was clear that he hadn’t succeeded. 

“Yes ... our ... **pleasure**.” 

Not. He was going to have to find some innocent critters in the Wilds to _murder_ for this ... killing one's colleague was rather frowned upon after all. 

The tension seemed to vanish from Raan’s shoulders and he smiled, clapping his hands together. 

“Excellent! I’ll leave the four of you to get acquainted.” 

He turned to look at the younger Cathar, a sad smile on his face. 

“Leonar, Zeron ... give them a chance. **Please**?” 

Zeron turned burning orange flecked blue eyes onto the pair of instructors, giving them a cold feline assessment before he shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Everything in his body language made it clear that he'd rather be anywhere but here. 

“We’ll see.” 

Yellow flecked jade eyes rolling in a fit of teenage petulance, Leonar smirked and flicked his ears rudely. So Raan was foisting them off onto another victim eh? His loss. They'd chased off or been dumped by every single tutor that the older Cathar had tried to saddle them with. What made this pair any different? 

“No promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was such fun to write ^^
> 
> Feel free to lemme know what you thought!


End file.
